


And They Were Roommates

by KyloTrashForever



Series: ABOhHoHo [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (it really is accidental at first but just in case), Accidental Voyeurism, Alpha Ben Solo, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Begging, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Canon Age Difference, Chekhov's Rag, Cock Cleaning, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Dominant Ben Solo, Excessive Dressing Of Ben In Worn Denim, F/M, Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oh No We Sweat Through Our Blockers, Omega Rey (Star Wars), Oral Knotting, Praise Kink, Roommates, Rutting, Scenting, Size Difference, Sweat, Tattooed Ben Solo, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, White Collared Turned Blue Collared Ben, heat wave, i mean that literally, is cock cleaning a tag, that unresolved sexual tension just got a whole lot more resolved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:22:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 48,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21160841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: “This isn’t going to work.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.”Her eyes narrow. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.”“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.”She knows what he means, shedoes—but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?”His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.”In which Rey’s new roommate turns out to be a lot more than she bargained for.





	1. A Bad Idea

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, welcome to the tropiest of tropey nonsense—now with knots!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a prompt traded to me for kinktober by [ Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard/pseuds/Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard) that ended up not being kinky enough for such an event I think, but that I loved so much I still had to do it. 😍

* * *

“Just let me pay for another six months on the lease.”

Rey purses her lips, shaking her head as she shuffles her cellphone between her ear and shoulder. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not letting you do that.”

“It’s _ my _fault you have to find an apartment as it is,” Armie huffs. “I feel terrible.”

“Moving into your boyfriend’s place isn’t a bad thing,” Rey laughs. “I have a few good prospects anyway.”

She eyes the newspaper on the kitchen table, taking in the numerous ads that have already been crossed out, grimacing a little. 

“You could just come stay with us,” Armie offers. “Until you find somewhere you can afford or get a new roommate.”

Rey makes a face. “Absolutely not.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because you and Poe don’t behave like any other betas I know.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re both _ loud _ behind closed doors—and that's definitely something I don’t miss.”

“Prude,” Armie tuts. 

Rey grins. “Slut.”

“Guilty as charged.” She hears him laugh on the other end. “Just promise me you won’t wind up homeless without coming to me first.”

“Yeah, yeah. I promise. I still have a couple weeks left,” she points out weakly. “Surely something will come along.”

“Maybe you can live under a bridge. I hear they’re quite cozy.”

“Suddenly, I miss you a lot less.”

“Doubtful.”

“Yeah, I know. I need to go. I have work tonight.”

“How _ is _the prestigious world of exotic mixology?”

She rolls her eyes. “Bartending is fine.”

“I just don’t think it’s very safe for you to be—”

“I have to go, _ Dad.” _

She hangs up before he can start in on why bartending is hardly a safe profession for Omegas. A common argument between them since he found out she worked there shortly after they moved in together upon graduating high school. She gets it, she _ really _does—but she’s never felt unsafe there. Not with her bear of a boss behind the counter. 

There isn’t an Alpha on the planet stupid enough to fuck with Chewie, she thinks.

Rey pushes the newspaper away, heaving out a sigh and looking around her apartment that has felt too big since Armie moved out. She really _ is _happy for him—she’s never seen him as blissful as he is with Poe—but she misses bad television after her shift because she can’t sleep, and she misses more the way his face pinches when she forces him to try her new drink concoctions. 

She’s keeping a brave face for his sake, but truth be told, she _ is _ worried about what she’ll do. She can’t afford to renew the lease on her own, but all of her potential prospects have fallen flat. The only listings that _ did _ seem promising went sour upon meeting them; turns out that there aren’t a lot of people who actually _ want _to room with an Omega. It makes her a little bit more than bitter—it isn’t as if she’ll be running amok sans suppressants and having her heats in the kitchen sink. 

Some people still haven’t quite caught up to the twenty-first century.

She checks the clock, knowing she needs to hurry and leave if she’s going to make her shift, heaving a sigh and deciding the roommate issue can wait. 

At least for a little while longer.

* * *

Rey grabs for her scent-stick, rubbing it along the glands of her throat to ensure they’re properly masked, dropping it back in her purse before stepping out of her car. Chewie is outside the door waiting for her, giving a little wave and dropping his cigarette on the concrete. 

“Hey, kid,” he grunts. “You’re late.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.”

“You good to work?”

“Should be. Can you smell me?”

His lips turn down, that uncomfortable look in his eye that’s always there when she asks him this. He scratches at his beard, leaning in and taking a whiff. “Smell like a Beta to me.”

“Thanks.” She pats his shoulders. “Sorry.”

He waves her off. “Maz would have my ass if I let you go in there otherwise.”

“Yeah,” Rey laughs. “Probably.”

“Come on.” He motions her to follow. “It’s already rowdy in there.”

* * *

It _ is _rowdy tonight.

_ The Falcon _is always bustling, for a little hole in the wall—its usual patrons consisting mostly of grizzled old Alphas from Chewie’s younger days. She’s learned to handle them fairly well at this point, not that Chewie would allow them to act like assholes, anyway. 

It’s not entirely orthodox, her working here, but Chewie is the only person to take a chance on her—pulling her off the streets at sixteen and up to an old bartop, giving her some acrid liquid that would _ warm her right up _as he put it. Never mind that she was too young, never mind that she was dirty and skinny and days out from a heat she had no protection against—he hasn’t been able to get rid of her since.

Not, she thinks, that he even wants to, and not, she knows, that his sweet mate Maz would even let him. 

“You still apartment huntin’?”

She sighs, running the rag over the bartop in a slow, circular motion. “Still looking.”

“Can’t believe that little Beta boy ran out on you. Never liked him.”

“Chewie,” she laughs. “He wasn’t my _ boyfriend, _ he was my _ friend_. He didn’t run out on me.”

“Whatever,” he gruffs. “Told you, you can have the little room over the bar.”

“I’m not taking anymore charity from you,” she hmphs. “You’ve done more for me in the past three years than I can ever repay as it is.”

“You don’t make debts with family, kid. You just take the offer.”

Rey goes quiet, her movements slowing as she works her bottom lip. “I need to do this on my own, I think.”

“Suit yourself,” he sighs. “Old Lando over there is wanting another round of Blue Moon. Think you can take it over? He likes you.”

Rey rolls her eyes. “He likes anyone he can sweet talk.”

“To be fair, I haven’t met anyone he _ couldn’t _sweet talk.”

“Yeah,” Rey chuckles. “I believe you.”

“Just don’t ask him about the cape.”

“He’s wearing that again? It’s the middle of July.”

“He thinks it makes him look dashing. I don’t know how to tell him it just makes him look like an ass.”

Rey blows out a breath. “Right. Mum’s the word.”

In the end, she only has to endure a good ten minutes of Lando’s glory days—a new record, she thinks. She’s gathering up old beer bottles from the tables, leaned over a booth to grab for one near the wall when she feels a large hand at her back. 

She’s hit with his scent before she sees him, sharp and tangy and wholly unpleasant—tinged with the flavor of cheap suppressants that she can feel clinging to the back of her tongue when she takes a breath. Her body tenses, and she tries to squirm away from his grip. 

“Where ya going?” This stranger’s breath smells like too much beer and even _ more _Alpha pheromones. “You work here, right?”

She backs away from him as she turns around, taking in wide shoulders and a leering smile that makes her uneasy. She pastes on her fakest smile. “Can I get you something?”

“You’re an Omega. Aren’t you.”

Her spine stiffens. “That’s none of your—”

His hand snatches out to grip her wrist, and her eyes dart around the crowded bar in search of Chewie, who seems to have retreated to the back for something or another. 

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here? Don’t you know there are weirdos out this late?”

“Yes,” she grinds out. “I do. Now if you could let go of me, I can—”

“I could help you out,” he slurs. “Walk you to your car tonight. Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“No, thank you, if you’ll just—”

“Don’t be like that,” he coos. “I only want to—”

A hand so large she thinks it can’t be human closes around (what she now sees is) the smaller Alpha’s forearm, grip so tight it _ has _ to be painful. Rey looks up and up and _ up _to find a hard jaw and a plush mouth and eyes the color of malt whiskey that are currently burning into the side of her groper’s face.

“I think she asked you to let her go.”

His voice. His _ voice. _ It’s deep and dark like the rest of him, resonating with something, something _ powerful _ that demands you listen. Rey shivers all over from only the one sentence. _ Alpha. _The fingers at her wrist loosen a little, but the man sneers up at the larger Alpha all the same. 

“This don’t concern you.”

“It will,” he warns, “if you don’t let go.”

There’s some coolness to his features, like a mask—but underneath she can see the deep burn. The promise of something terrifying if he doesn’t get his way. There’s a moment, or maybe a dozen, where she thinks that they’ll fight, and there’s some part of her she doesn’t recognize, something inside her that _ wants _ to see this big Alpha tear this smaller one apart—wants him to make the prick _ suffer _for touching her—but it’s gone as quickly as it comes. 

The hand releases her wrist, leaving her free to rub the soreness from it, and then the smaller Alpha pushes past them both to barrell elsewhere through the crowd.

Rey can’t seem to tear her eyes away from her would-be savior’s face. He’s all sharp angles and full mouth and his eyes. His _ eyes. _They actually do burn with an intensity that is hard to look away from. Some sort of draw she’s never experienced before. Doesn’t hurt that the rest of him doesn’t quite seem to fit in the stretched black t-shirt that he’s crammed himself into. 

“Thank you,” she says quietly. “They’re usually not like that. He must be new.”

His gaze travels down the length of her, and there’s a tremor in her spine. A full-bodied tremble that starts in the glands just below her ears and trickles through her veins right down to her toes that curl slightly inside her Converse. 

“This is a strange place for someone like you to work.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Someone like me?”

“I think it’s obvious,” he answers quietly. “What I meant.”

Her hand reaches for her neck unconsciously, wondering if her scent-stick needs to be reapplied. Her hand stills halfway, bringing it to her side to fist it instead. “I can take care of myself.”

He smirks back at her. “Clearly.”

Her skin prickles, his obvious condescension ruffling her despite the strange way he makes her feel. “Anyway,” she says tightly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t,” he tells her tersely. “Didn’t do it for you. Just hate assholes like him.”

Something inside her deflates, which is strange, given that she doesn’t even know this Alpha’s name. “Right.”

His gaze lingers on her, studying her for a few moments, finally giving her a tight nod before moving away from her, disappearing through the crowd towards the entrance. There’s a touch of _ something _as he goes—something warm, and woodsy. Something she wants to press her nose to, laced with something clean and sterile that seems like a blocker but must be… very expensive. 

She shakes off the encounter, chalking him up to being an asshole. Albeit a slightly chivalrous one. 

She picks up her tray from the booth table, carrying it back through the crowd to the front to find Chewie returned to the bar. She sets the tray on top, huffing out a breath. “Some real assholes in here tonight.”

“What?” Chewie noticeably bristles. “Did someone fuck with you?”

Rey shakes her head. “Someone took care of it. He left.”

“I’m going to have to hire another bouncer or something. Fucking pricks.”

“_No,” _Rey laughs. “When Klaud is doing such a great job?”

They both turn their heads to find the man in question leaned back in a chair in the corner, napping. His round belly peeks out from under his stretched t-shirt, drool collecting at the corners of his open mouth. Chewie huffs out a breath. “Useless.”

“I’m fine, Chewie,” Rey assures him. “I can handle myself.”

Chewie frowns. “Maybe we should sign you up for a self-defense class.”

“Oh my God.” She wipes her hands on her apron. “I’m _ fine. _I’m running to the bathroom,” she tells him, hitching a thumb towards Klaud. “Try to wake him up while I’m gone.”

Chewie is still shaking his head when she walks off. 

She does her business quickly, washing her hands and pushing open the door with her shoulder, tossing her paper towels in the trash can as she steps out. She passes the billboard in the hall on her way back, her attention drawn to a fresh new paper on the board, strips cut into the bottom. She leans in curiously, eyes widening in surprise when she reads what's typed there.

**_Seeking_** **_roommate for two bed/one bath. _**

The asking rent is actually _ below _ range of what she can afford, and the address isn’t that far from the bar. She swipes one of the little strips of paper, half-skipping to the front and slapping it down on the bar. 

“Have you seen this?”

Chewie throws the towel he’s holding over his shoulder, peering down at the little strip, frowning. “Yeah. No. That’s a bad idea.”

“What? Why?”

Chewie grabs for the piece of paper, but she snatches it away before he can. “Rey. No.”

“Whose is it?”

He scratches at the back of his neck. “My nephew’s. Asked me if he could hang it up here. He’s sort of going through some stuff right now.”

“Is he dangerous or something?”

“No, no,” he counters. “Nothing like that. I just… I don’t think it’s a good idea. I told you, you can take the upstairs room. Won’t have to pay a dime.”

Rey’s brow wrinkles, pursing her lips. “I told you, I—”

“I’m just saying,” Chewie cuts her off. “Definitely not a good idea, I think.”

Rey sighs. “Fine. _ Fine. _I get it. I’ll keep looking.”

“Good.” He gives her a lazy grin from under his beard. “Lando is asking for another round.”

“I think he’s had enough.”

“I know,” he chortles. “I just want you to tell him.”

He laughs as he leaves, disappearing into the back room for something or another and leaving her to herself. She works her bottom lip in thought, peeking down at the little scrap of paper reading _ contact Ben Solo for details _with a phone number. Her eyes flick to the door Chewie went through, then back down to the paper. 

She stuffs it into her pocket, thinking that what Chewie doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

* * *

Chewie doesn’t know she’s here, and in hindsight, she thinks maybe that’s a mistake. Chewie would have told her if his nephew was a murderer, right? He didn’t _ seem _ like a murderer in his emails and his texts—but that, too, is worrisome. Apparently he works all day, and he preferred to hash out the details of her rental agreement as quickly as possible. She hadn’t even been given the luxury of a _ phone call. _

Maybe not a good sign, even if it’s too late to think so.

She feels guilty, admittedly, doing all of this without being honest with either Chewie or Armie. She knows that either of them would want to throttle her if they knew she was here in a strange building with all of her belongings in a truck downstairs with every intention of moving into an apartment with a strange man she doesn’t know. She can’t even say that she would blame them. It doesn’t exactly make sense. 

It’s just that she’s spent the last few years of her life living off the graces of others, and she’s grateful. She _ is—_but before there was Chewie and Maz it was just her. There was no one but herself to keep her alive, and there’s something inside her that still feels guilt for everything that's been given to her. Still a tiny part that feels as if she has taken more than she deserves. And maybe it’s silly, in fact it probably is—but she _ needs _to do something herself. If only to prove that she still can. 

She climbs the old staircase slowly, the empty space seeming to echo with the loudness of her anxious thoughts. 

Ben’s apartment isn’t in the worst part of town, at least, being only four blocks from bar—but it isn’t the _ best _ she’s seen either. The pictures of his place hadn’t exactly sparked excitement, small, and sort of old, but there’s a bed and four walls and right now that looks better than her other options, or lack thereof. The building is old too, not that she’s surprised, much older than her current one. There’s no elevator, and the stairs are creaky and not _ entirely _sound—but she reminds herself with every step of how much money she’s saving with this place.

She’s put on extra scent-block today, just in case, and there is pepper spray in her purse—not that she’s actually worried. It’s Chewie’s _ nephew._

How bad could he be?

Her hand clutches her purse strap a little tighter when she finds his door on the third floor, then dips down into the bag so that her fingers brush against the canister. She takes a deep breath, raising her fist to give a tentative knock. There is sweat gathering at the back of her neck, but she isn’t sure if it’s from nerves or the strange July heat that has been plaguing the area over the last few weeks. She tells herself it’s the heat—even if her heart pounds wildly in her chest. 

She hears heavy steps inside thudding across the floor, and her teeth work at her lower lip as she listens to them get nearer and nearer. There is a sound of a chain being undone just before the doorknob rattles and turns, and she holds her breath unwittingly as it swings open. 

It’s his scent she recognizes first. 

Not that she’s been _ thinking _ about it by any means, it’s just that the warm aroma that reminds her of fresh rain clinging to forest leaves is hard to forget. She looks up and up and _ up— _ eyes climbing over miles of thick torso and lickable neck, skipping over plush mouth and strong nose and _ those _eyes—she certainly hasn’t been thinking about those eyes either. 

Suddenly she’s very sure that the heat at her neck has nothing to do with the weather.

Nothing to do with it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whispers: _omg and they were roommates_


	2. Only A Month

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so happy you guys liked the first chapter! ABO is my favorite, and I love being in such good company. 🥰 I’m sure you noticed the upped chapter count—don’t judge me. 😂 I sat down to outline and it got away from me. Plot got in the way.

For a moment they just stare at each other, his eyes passing over the lines of her face as if trying to place her. She thinks it takes him a moment, but she sees when it clicks for him. His brow furrows, crossing his arms in the worn, denim shirt that is rolled to the elbows, cocking an eyebrow in recognition. “I know you.”

“Yeah,” she answers a little too breathily. “We met at the bar.”

“The one you shouldn’t be working at.”

“That’s your opinion.”

“You’re Rey?”

“I’m Rey.”

He takes a deep breath, his chest that is already too wide for the thin denim straining against buttons that she’s certainly _ not _flicking her eyes to every other second—letting it out slowly before he shakes his head. “This isn’t going to work.”

“What?” There’s a sinking feeling in her stomach that is a far cry from the fluttering from moments before. “What do you mean?”

“This.” He points a finger between the two of them. “This arrangement.”

“Why not?”

“You weren’t”—he doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sweep down her body—“who I had in mind when I put out the ad.”

The sinking then turns to sticky heat, because she knows exactly what he’s referring to. “You didn’t put any specifications on who could apply.”

“No, but… I only put them in… certain areas,” he points out. “Areas that I thought would get them seen by the type of tenant I was trying to attract.” 

_ He means the Alpha bar. _

She crosses her own arms, trying to look taller than she is. “Well. You got me.”

“Yeah…” He rubs the back of his neck then, the action making it look longer, making her wonder what it might feel like under her fingers, _ immediately _ brushing that thought aside with a mental chiding. “You have to know that this isn’t a good idea.”

She knows what he means, she _ does— _but she’s so tired of being brushed aside for her designation that she challenges him anyway. “And why not?”

His jaw works, and she is a little distracted by the stubble there, struck with an urge to feel it scratch under her mouth. _Cut it out, Rey_. His eyes bore into hers, his expression blank as he says, “Because I can tell how much scent-block you put on—and I can still smell you.”

Her breath hitches, his words licking down her spine, and she should be _ angry _ at such a crass observation, but she _ had _been the one to push him. There is a heat in her chest, but she doesn’t think it has very much to do with anger. 

She keeps her expression blank, even though her chest still balloons with _ something _as she narrows her eyes. “Well. I already signed the rental agreement,” she says evenly. “And I would be willing to bet that you’ve already turned it into the super.”

His jaw works. “That can be undone.”

“I already _ signed,” _she argues. “So did you.”

“Once I explain the situation, I’m sure he’ll understand.”

She takes a step before she can stop herself, and she sees him tense, holding herself back. “You can’t _ do _that.”

“It’s my apartment. Tell me why I can’t.”

“I just—” She knows. She _ knows _ this is a bad idea, but she’s scraping the bottom of the barrel for options here. “I just need a little more time. Maybe we could try it out? Or you could just let me stay here for a month. You must need the money, right? Just give me the time to find somewhere else. My lease goes out _ tomorrow_, and I’m running out of time, and—”

“You don’t have anywhere else to go?”

She chews at her bottom lip, anxiety bubbling up inside. She knows she has options, that if Ben were to turn her out she could turn to Chewie, to Armie, even—but to do so would ruin her. She can’t even explain _ why, _ but to have to ask another person to take her in, after everything she’s already taken—she can’t do it. She just _ can’t. _

“No,” she answers quietly, knowing it's only half-true.

Ben still doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t know…”

“You said in your texts you worked long days—I work nights! We’ll barely see each other. It’s sort of perfect, actually. You’ll barely know I’m here.”

“Somehow—” She doesn’t miss the way his eyes flick down the length of her again, and it should probably do something other than make her press her thighs tighter together, and that in itself should be a sign that this _ cannot _work. “—I doubt that.”

_ It’s only temporary, _ she tells herself. _ I just need a little more time. _

“Please,” she says quietly. “Please, Ben. I promise I won’t be a bother. I’ll…” She swallows a little at the uncomfortableness creeping up, knowing if she’s going to do this it needs to be discussed. “I’ll get a stronger dose of suppressants.” With what she’ll be saving on rent, she can afford it. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

He stares at her for a long time. “You really want to do this?”

“I don’t have any other options right now,” she says quietly. 

“It’s a small apartment,” he tells her feebly. 

“I don’t take up a lot of space.”

“And it’s… only temporary?”

“Yes,” she assures him. “A month. Tops.”

There’s a little tic in his jaw, and there’s a waft of his scent that cuts through the clean, sterile quality of his blockers—and some part of her whispers that _ he _will be a problem as well, but she can’t let him know that. She can’t give him any other reason to say no. 

“Fine,” he says flatly, sounding begrudged and wary. “A month.”

She can’t help the way her face lights up. “Really?”

“I can’t”—he swallows thickly, arms flexing from where they’re still crossed against his chest—“turn you out with nowhere to go.”

“I promise it won’t be an issue. I’ll sleep while you work and work while you sleep, and it will be like you have no roommate at all.” 

He doesn’t say anything, his eyes still dark and wary as he gives her a tight nod instead, but still he lets his arms fall to his sides as he turns his ridiculously large body to the side to usher her in. “Do you want to see the place?”

She thinks about her stuff downstairs in a moving truck, but she decides to save that little fact just a little while longer. Best not to overwhelm him. 

“Sure.”

* * *

“I told you it was small,” he mumbles as she looks around the tiny kitchen that bleeds into a living room that is only slightly less so. 

“It’s fine,” she tells him. “It does what it’s meant to.” She eyes the singular window on the other side of the couch, eyebrows raising. “Is that a window unit?”

She looks back to find him pursing his lips. “There’s one in each of the bedrooms also, but they’re… considerably smaller.”

“I didn’t even know people still used them,” she muses.

“It’s a very old building.”

“Does it do okay with this heat?”

He shrugs. “Best it can.”

“Hm.” She pushes through the small space towards the little attached hallway. “Are the bedrooms down here?”

He nods. “Yours would be second on the left. Bathroom is just before.”

She ducks into the bathroom, flicking on the light to take in the cramped but neat space. There is only a shower she isn’t even sure how he fits in, and his toiletries are a minimum on the sink, consisting of only a plain black toothbrush and a lone can of shaving gel that sits next to a razor. 

She can feel him watching from the hall, and she tries not to think about his hulking figure that would probably fill this entire room. Never mind the tiny shower. She _ refuses _to let her mind wander to the image of him inside it. 

“Seems standard,” she murmurs, flicking off the light.

She moves further down the hall to what would be her bedroom, only sparing a glance to the door of his that’s ajar, a flare of curiosity blooming inside before she stamps it down and opens her own door instead. 

It’s a small room, not that she expected any different at this point—a tiny closet in the corner and a tinier unit in the window just as he’d mentioned. 

“I don’t know what size your bed is…” he trails off.

“It’s a futon,” she tells him. “It’ll fit.”

“A futon?” She turns to find him wrinkling his nose. “Those are terrible.”

“Well,” she laughs. “It was a hand-me-down. Most of my stuff is. I learn to make do.”

He makes a little _ hmph _ sound—but says no more on the subject. She stands in the little room for longer than necessary, wondering if maybe this _ is _an insane idea. Even here, even with the sterile tang of his blockers, she can scent him. That calming fragrance of a rain-soaked forest tickling just under her nostrils and making her want to press her nose deeper into it. 

_ You need this, _ she tells herself. _ Just bear with it. _

“I won’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind,” he says quietly from behind her. “In fact, it’s probably a good idea if you—”

“It’s perfect,” she cuts in abruptly. “Thank you.”

She turns to face him, still unable to _ quite _read that look in his eye as he regards her. Almost as if he’s afraid of her—a ridiculous notion, considering he’s twice, if not three times, her size. There’s a tremor of something inside that is new and just a bit frightening—a flicker of something old and desperate that goes far deeper than just the two of them. 

_ Only a month. It’s just a month. _

She wonders if her desperation to stay here has more to do with her need of a place to stay… or if some part of her, some part she’s never really drawn upon, just recognizes that _ he _ is here. That _ Alpha _is here. 

It’s definitely a little disconcerting, this draw. 

“Where is your stuff?”

She averts her eyes to the floor, heat creeping up her neck. “Downstairs.”

“Really.”

When she flicks her eyes back up, she catches his raised brow. “I… might have been saving it for incentive to sway you. In case things didn’t go my way.”

She thinks his lips twitch, but it’s nearly imperceptible. “Clever.”

“I thought so.” She gives him a shy grin. “I can be resourceful when I need to be.”

“Tell me.” He leans against the doorframe. “Does Chewie know about, ah—this arrangement?”

Her lips form a tight line. “Not… yet.”

Ben snorts, shaking his head. “_You _will be the one telling him that one.”

“Of course.” _ If I tell him at all. _ “I just wanted to make sure it was actually happening.”

“Just a month,” Ben reminds gently. “While you look for another place.”

“Yes,” she agrees. “A month.”

He gives her one last long look, and she can see the indecision there. She knows there is a part of him, most likely a _ large _part, that still thinks he should call all of this off. He pushes off the door frame finally, letting out a resigned breath. 

“Well, come on then,” he sighs. “Let’s go get your stuff.”

She tries not to let her gaze dwell on the larger-than-life width of his shoulders as he gives her his back, swallowing hard as she follows after him timidly. 

_ It’s just a month, _ she mentally repeats for the dozenth time now. _ It won’t be a big deal. _

She thinks if she repeats it often enough, it has to come true. 

At least that’s what she continues to tell herself. 

* * *

The first few days go by without problems, she thinks.

She hasn’t actually _ seen _ Ben since that first day when he helped her move in, and Rey wonders if that’s _ really _because of their schedules or because he’s working extra hard to make sure it happens that way. Not that she can complain—it feels nice not to have the anxiety of possibly being homeless hanging over her head. 

At least for a short while. 

He’d helped her put her bed together that Sunday, but throughout the entire process, he’d barely said a word. Even when she would try to initiate pleasant conversation, she was met with nothing more than curt, one-word answers or even simple sharp little grunts. 

Ben carries himself as if just the thought of her near him puts him on edge. It’s strange, at best. She knows there is a certain… tension to be had between them. Given their… differences—but the way he behaves… it’s as if the idea of an Omega in _ itself _makes him uneasy. 

She can’t, for the life of her, determine why. Not that she has much chance in what has been designated as just a short while with him. Still, she can’t help but be curious.

She shakes off her musings as she finishes loading up her tray with empty bottles, knowing it’s pointless to wonder. It’s not as if he’s given her any indication that she might _ ask _about it—and her only other source of knowledge on the subject she has needed to keep wholly in the dark about the whole thing. 

Speaking of.

She spots Chewie rounding the bar, stomping across the crowded room to give Klaud a little smack across his balding head for falling asleep _ yet again—_and it makes her heart hurt a little, lying to him. In the years that she’s known him, she can’t think of a single time that she’s lied to him about anything. It doesn’t sit right with her, and yet, something holds her back. 

Maybe it’s the idea of disappointing him. 

Or maybe it’s just that she’s afraid he’ll make her leave earlier than she has to. 

She carries the tray across the seating area, bringing it behind the counter to set it near the sink. 

“You up for tending the bar when Snap leaves?”

She almost jumps a little when Chewie’s deep timbre sounds behind her. “What?”

“You’re skittish tonight,” Chewie chuckles. “Bartending. Tonight. Snap is out of here in a half hour.”

“Oh,” she says, trying to calm her guilt-induced nerves. “Sure. That’s fine.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” she assures him without meeting his eyes. “I’m good.” When she turns she catches his suspicious expression, and she pastes on a grin. “I’m _ fine. _Really. Just tired.”

“Move go okay?”

She nods a little too quickly. “Mhm. A-okay.”

_ A-okay? Jesus Christ, Rey. You’ve never said a-okay in your entire life. _

Thankfully, if Chewie notices her squirrelly behavior, he doesn’t comment on it. “Your roommate okay? Not a weirdo, right?”

“Oh, no,” Rey says flippantly. “They seem nice enough. Our schedules are sort of flip-flopped, so I don’t think I’ll be seeing too much of them.”

“Sounds like the perfect setup to me,” Chewie grunts appreciatively. 

Rey rolls her eyes, grinning. “You _ would _think so.”

“Well.” He nods for good measure. “If you have any problems, you’ll let me know, right?”

She feels the guilt creeping back in, and she tells herself _ again _that this is only temporary. That he’ll never have to know, and hopefully, that a little white lie won’t hurt him. “Of course.” 

“Good. I worry about you, kid.”

She turns back to the sink, her brow furrowing as she begins to separate the glasses from the empty bottles. “Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself, remember?”

She hears Chewie’s deep rumble of a laugh behind her, then there’s a pat of his large hand against his shoulder before he begins to move off towards the back. She doesn’t spare him another glance as he goes, the guilt she carries eating her up. She takes a deep breath, beginning to clean the glasses and repeating her mantra that she’s singularly clinging to now. 

_ Only a month. _

* * *

It’s late when she gets home that same night, well after three in the morning. It’s not the latest she’s gotten off work—with last call being four on weekends, but it’s still a tad later than normal for a weekday. She knows tomorrow will be a day she sleeps away, but it’s not particularly a bother for her. She’s sort of used to it by now. 

She tries to be quiet when she steps into the apartment, turning the key slowly and pushing open the door in the same way so as not to wake up Ben. She knows he gets up for work in just a couple of hours—and she would feel terrible robbing him of any extra hours he can fit in. From what she’s gathered, he works at some sort of paper mill, and just the _ thought _of being around those big machines in this heat makes her weary. 

She makes it inside without a hitch, closing the door quietly behind her and dropping her keys in the little bowl at the end of the counter—the only thing on her mind being a hot shower and a cold bedroom to pass out in.

She steps across the old linoleum carefully, creeping out of the kitchen to pass through the living room, and it is then when she notices the man in question out of his bedroom—sprawled out on the too-small couch with his legs hanging over the edge. 

She goes still just a few feet away, unsure as to what led to him falling asleep here and conflicted as to whether or not she should leave him or urge him to his bed. He doesn’t look exactly comfortable there, his mouth slightly ajar and his shoulders pressed against the arm of the couch—but there’s a peace to his features she hasn’t seen on him before, and she can’t help but creep over quietly to indulge in a rare moment of study. 

He looks much younger in sleep—the hard lines of his face smoothed, the little wrinkle in his brow calm, and it’s endearing, she thinks. He doesn’t look a year shy of thirty now, no, he sort of looks no older than her.

And his _ scent_. 

She thinks perhaps he’s due for a dose, or maybe it’s just that he _ smells _so unbelievably good that his blockers can’t quite contain it. It makes the glands beneath her ears prickle with interest, and she rubs her fingers there idly to try and settle them. She really needs to go to bed, she thinks. 

She tries not to let her gaze linger on the way his dark grey Henley clings to him in sleep, but it’s impossible not to let her eyes dip down to the stretched fabric, not to mention the gapped neckline where the buttons are just a little _ too _ undone. There’s a dark _ something _ against the skin there, something she’s never seen before—and her curiosity skyrockets because Ben does _ not _strike her as the type to have a tattoo. 

For a moment she considers reaching to pull the fabric further away from his chest, if only to steal a _ peek— _but the potential mortification of him waking up to find her acting so creepily makes her grimace. She feels the full blast of the larger window unit just across from the couch, and despite the overwhelming heat from outside, she catches herself shivering a bit. 

She grabs for the blanket draped over the back of the couch on a whim, tossing it over Ben’s large form before she steps further away from the couch. She spares him one last glance, tucking the mental image away for her own selfish purposes, and then she pads down the hall quietly to escape the sight and scent of him before she does something really stupid. 

_ One month. _

She can totally do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sure_. Everything is going to be just fine.


	3. Exercise Is Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why all my ABOs turn into somewhat of a slow burn. I really, really don’t. 😭

The first time she really interacts with Ben again comes as a surprise to both of them, she thinks. 

It’s still early—for her at least. She agreed to let Snap work overtime and come in late so that he could make up for some missed time—him having to leave at random intervals lately to take his mate to her midwife appointments. Which leaves her here, at home after seven with nowhere to be for another couple of hours. It’s hotter today than it’s been, and even now as the sun begins to sink, she finds herself cranking up the window unit to stave off the trickling heat that clings to her skin. 

She flips through the channels on the television as she tries to pass the time, finding nothing particularly interesting. She tosses the remote on the couch cushions as she blows out a breath, glancing at the weathered old clock on the wall for the dozenth time only to find that hardly any time has passed since the  _ last  _ time she looked at it. 

She hears keys in the door then, and she realizes that it isn’t novel to run into Ben, with him living here and all and being early evening on a Wednesday—but until the little rattle of the lock, it hadn’t quite  _ hit  _ her. She’s become so used to  _ not  _ seeing him during this first week that honestly the thought hasn’t really occurred to her. 

She straightens for reasons she can’t quite fathom, fiddling with her shirt until it’s smooth and running her fingers through her hair so that she might be more presentable for when Alpha—

_ Fuck.  _

She stops herself just as the door begins to creak open, stamping the strange urges down until they’re less demanding of her. It’s all for naught when he steps inside, her tongue feeling too thick because why is he so  _ sweaty?  _

He stills in the entry when he spots her on the couch, pulling earbuds slowly from his ears and gaping at her as if he’s been able to forget entirely that she actually  _ lives  _ here. 

“Hey,” she offers quietly. 

“You’re home.”

If a look had weight, she might be sunk into the floor right now. “Oh… yeah. I had a later shift tonight.”

He runs a hand idly through his hair, and the way it stirs him up, the way the air blooms with his scent that is only intensified by the heat and his sweat that clings to his temples and his hair and even the fabric stretched across his  _ chest  _ is damp and what in the  _ hell  _ has he been doing?

“Did you”—she looks him up and down without being able to help herself, taking in his tight shirt and his athletic shorts that hardly look like appropriate attire for his job—“just get off work?”

“A bit ago,” he answers evenly, still sort of staring at her as if he’s surprised she’s here. “I usually take a run around the block before coming upstairs.” He holds up a backpack she’s just now noticing but suspects holds his other clothes. “Clears my head.”

“Right.” She can’t remember anything ever smelling as enticing as he does right now. Even with that faint tinge of his blockers he is  _ edible.  _ What was she saying? “Exercise is… good.”

“It is.” She notices he’s gripping the wires of his earbuds rather hard. “Good.”

She shifts a little on the couch, torn between needing to get out of this room, away from his  _ scent— _ and needing to cross the space and press her nose to it. She can’t figure out what is  _ wrong  _ with her. 

“Did you… have a good day at work?”

“It was… work. Very long.”

“It sounds hard.” His eyes widen a bit, the pupils dilating enough that she can see it even from here—and she nearly chokes on her own tongue as she scrambles to correct herself. “Y-your work,” she stammers. “Sounds hard. Big machines. Sounds tough.”

_ Fuck. _

“It is,” he answers thickly. “Hard.”

She watches his nostrils flare, and there is an expression that passes over his features that is gone as quickly as it comes, one like want, she thinks. One like  _ need.  _ Can he scent her, too? She’s upped her dose just as promised, applies her scent-block  _ religiously  _ for fear of causing him any more discomfort than she has to—but if she can scent him as she does—could he possibly—

“You’re welcome to watch this with me,” she offers breathily, having no idea what’s even playing now. “If you want.”

“No, I—” She watches his throat bob with a swallow, following the motion closely with her eyes as she suddenly imagines pressing her tongue there—an urge that is as fleeting as it is unbidden. “I need to shower, probably.”

Now she’s thinking of his large body crammed into that too-small space that  _ she  _ barely fits in—and she isn’t sure if this is better or worse than the licking fiasco from moments ago. Seriously, what is  _ wrong  _ with her?

“Sure. Shower. Good idea.”

“Maybe… after?”

She shakes her head a little too quickly. “I’ll probably be gone when you get out, actually. It’s about time for me to go. I completely forgot.”

“Oh.” He nods slowly. “Sure. Right.”

She definitely  _ stands  _ too quickly—realizing that this will put them going down the hall at the same time and the space is far too cramped for the both of them and just the  _ thought  _ of being pressed against him, even so innocently, has a flush creeping up her neck. 

Ben still hasn’t moved, seeming to be at a loss for what to do outside of just watching her standing there like a complete idiot—and for a moment she considers just… inviting herself. Obviously there’s a tension here. Would it be so bad if…? 

_ I could come with you,  _ a voice inside begs her to offer. One that is huskier than one she’s ever heard before, even in the safety of her own mind.  _ I could help you.  _

She sucks in an unsteady breath, opening her mouth, to say what, she still isn’t sure—when Ben clears his throat. “I’ll see you later then, I guess.”

And then he’s gone.

Out of the living room and down the hall, and he doesn’t stop until he’s in the safety of the bathroom with the door firmly shut behind him.

Rey has no idea what just happened, has no idea what to  _ make  _ of it, but it leaves her unsettled and too hot and  _ needful  _ of something—something she’s never even considered before this moment. Something that she can’t discern whether is frightening or exhilarating. 

She slips into her shoes quickly when she reaches the front door, deciding that what she has on will work just fine. She just needs to get out of this apartment.

Before she does something stupid, like launch herself at the only thing keeping her from living under a bridge as Armie so aptly suggested. Which would be. Stupid, she thinks. 

Something she seems prone to, lately.   


* * *

The question has been on her tongue for the first two hours of her shift—but she can’t seem to bring herself to ask it. She’s had opportunities, moments where it is only her and Chewie, but she can’t for the life of her decide on a way to pose it without bringing about a whole world of suspicion on herself. 

In the end, her curiosity wins out over her good sense.

“Hey, Chewie.”

He looks up from the tap handle he’s currently fisting as fills a glass. “Hm?”

“So I saw your nephew’s flyer is still on the wall,” she starts carefully, knowing it’s due to little more than an oversight, now that the slot has been  _ filled.  _

Chewie narrows his eyes. “Thought you found a place.”

“Oh, I did, I did,” she assures him, pushing down her own guilt. “I just… I was thinking about what you said. About how he was going through a rough time. I guess I was curious.”

She tries her best to sound uninvested, but even to her own ears she can sense the need to  _ know  _ in her voice—and she can’t bring herself to look at Chewie as she waits for an answer.

“I don’t know if it’s my place to be sayin’,” he tells her. She feels herself deflate a bit, knowing she can’t exactly  _ press  _ for more without raising actual suspicion, but then she hears him clear his throat. “Guess it don’t matter since you don’t really know him.”

She does her very best not to seem like she isn’t hanging on his every word.

“Got himself mixed up with some bad people,” Chewie grunts. “Real oily types at work.”

Her brow furrows. “Work? You mean at the—” Chewie looks at her strangely as she bites her tongue, swallowing hard before correcting with, “I mean, what sort of work?”

Chewie stares back at her for a second too long, but seems to drop her misstep, making nothing of it. “He used to be a lawyer. Hired on by some sleazeball to handle his personal affairs.”

“Really?”

Chewie nods. “Ben was…  _ very  _ good at his job, I hear.”

“So he was… wrapped up in something bad?”

“I don’t think he knew… everything that was going on,” Chewie says thoughtfully. “At least, I want to hope he didn’t. Who can say.”

“But he isn’t,” Rey presses. “Wrapped up in that anymore?”

Chewie’s brow is furrowed as he stares down at the now-full glass, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly through his nostrils. “No. Some shit happened and…” He cuts his eyes across to her as he collects himself, realizing, she thinks, that she has no business knowing this much about someone she’s supposedly never met. “Anyway. No. He’s not in all that anymore. Thankfully. It’s been… a big adjustment for him, I gather.”

“Wow.” Rey forces herself to sound casual. “I’m sorry that happened to him. Sounds tough.”

“Yeah,” Chewie answers gruffly. “Anyway. You done with that?”

She looks down at the empty bottle of gin she was supposed to be restocking, having completely forgotten that she was holding it. “Oh… yeah.”

“Gimme it,” he grunts. “I’ll grab another from the back.”

She hands it over slowly, sensing that maybe she’s pushed him into thinking about something unpleasant he’d have rather avoided and feeling guilty for a moment. He gives her a little nod before he gives her his back, stalking off from the bar and pushing through the double doors that lead to the stockroom. Rey frowns down at the old bar top, not really knowing much more than she already did, and having no further insight into her quiet roommate whose scent makes her a little dizzy. 

She doesn’t know how much time passes before the bell above the entrance sounds, and she looks up with a smile to greet the man who walks inside. He spares a glance around the bar warily—and something about his posture  _ screams  _ that he doesn’t want to be here. She watches him run his hand through his graying hair in a nervous gesture, quickly moving to get away from the crowd. He shuffles over to the bar with eyes downcast, shoulders hunched and hands pushed firmly in his pockets until he’s forced to pull them out to hop up on a stool on the other side of the bar top.

“Hey,” Rey greets. “What can I get you?”

His brow knits as he regards her, and she’s seen the look before—many times in fact. Nothing about her screams  _ Alpha.  _ She knows how odd it is that she’s working here. She tries not to let it deter her. She raises an eyebrow in question, prompting an answer. 

“Oh. Sorry. I’m not looking to drink. Looking for Chewie.”

She nods her head behind her. “He’s in the back. Shouldn’t be too long.”

The man nods down at the weathered wood, placing his palms flat against it and tuning her out, she thinks. She can’t help but frown at the strange sadness that clings to his eyes.

“Let me buy you a drink,” she presses.

He looks up at her warily. “What for?”

“Because you look like you could use it, if I’m being honest.”

He lets out a little laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

She wrinkles her nose, giving him an apologetic look before she turns to grab for a bottle over the back of the bar. She holds it up in offering, grinning. “Chewie says there isn’t a problem out there that a good tequila can’t fix.”

His face breaks into a smile, and it warms her heart a little, seeing the sadness dissipate for those few moments. But something about it feels… familiar. Not in a way that she thinks she’s actually seen it before… but something. Something about it feels known. She quickly brushes whatever it is away. 

“You’re Rey. Aren’t you?”

“I am?”

A low chuckle. “The girl I’ve heard so much about. Name’s Han. Chewie and I go way back.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you.” She reaches for the lime juice under the bar. “I’m starting to think the only people who come here are Chewie’s old friends.”

“Mostly, I think,” he snorts. “He makes friends wherever he goes.”

She grabs for whatever off-brand Fresca Chewie keeps in the fridge cracking it open. “So how did you two meet?”

Han’s eyes widen a little, looking gleeful. “Oh, wow. I haven’t gotten to tell this story in a while. Buckle up,” he laughs. 

She grins down at the two glasses as she adds two ounces of the tequila to each. “Oh boy.”

“So I’m working the late shift at Mercy—”

“You’re a doctor?”

Han nods. “Work in ER.”

She nods so that he might continue as she adds the lime juice. 

“So anyway,” he goes on. “I get this call about someone coming in covered in glass from head to toe. Needing stitches and a good pair of tweezers.”

Rey grimaces. “Yikes.”

“I go in to find this big bear of a man whimpering like a day-old kitten, still half drowning in the tequila he’d been guzzling all night—and I ask him what happened.”

She grabs for the soda to fill each of the glasses to the brim. “And?”

“The ass went through a sliding glass door. Just…  _ walked  _ right through. He was too drunk to see it.”

Rey bursts out laughing, shoulders shaking as she adds salt to the rim of each glass. “He didn’t.”

“He damn sure did. I thought to myself:  _ what an asshole.” _

“So how did”—she brandishes each glass with a like wedge, sliding one across to the older man—“that turn into friendship?”

Han picks up the drink to sniff at it curiously. “I may have hooked him up with one of my best nurses.”

She picks up her own glass to take a sip. “And how did that turn out?”

“Well, I was best man at their wedding.” He tilts up his own glass. “What is this?”

“A Paloma,” she answers distractedly. “So wait, that was  _ Maz?” _

Han nods, still frowning down into his glass. “Sure was. Is this some sweet thing?”

“Just try it,” she huffs. “It’s free.”

Han moves to take an experimental drink when a booming voice sounds from the end of the bar. “Don’t come in here filling that girl’s head with nonsense.”

Han grins down the length of the bar, holding up his glass in greeting. “Just telling her how we met.”

“It was  _ very  _ interesting,” Rey laughs.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chewie grumbles, stomping behind the bar to join them. “See she made you the only thing she knows how to make.”

“Hey!” Rey frowns. “It’s not the  _ only  _ thing… it’s just my favorite. I can make  _ other _ things.”

Chewie grimaces and shoots Han a look that is less than convinced. “Sure.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just drink the damn thing.”

Han takes a sip finally, smacking his lips a little testingly. “Okay, it’s not bad.”

“Thank you,” she grumbles.

Chewie leans over the bar. “So what brings you by?”

“Oh, you know…” Han looks contemplative then, eyes darting back and forth between Chewie and herself. “I just… wondered if you’d heard from him.”

Chewie sighs. “Han…” He spares a glance at Rey. “You mind grabbing some more limes from the back?”

She knows she’s being dismissed, but she also knows whatever is causing that sudden sad look in Han’s eyes has nothing to do with her. She nods as she tilts her glass in Han’s direction, and he raises his own in thank you. 

“Nice to meet you, kid,” he offers.

_ Kid.  _ She laughs a little. He and Chewie are definitely friends. 

“I know he doesn’t want to see me,” Han starts as she walks away. 

“You have to give him some time,” Chewie answers.

“I know, I  _ know— _ it’s just… he’s my  _ son,  _ and I already lost—”

Rey can’t bring it in her to linger any longer, pushing through the double doors and leaving them to it. Her heart clenches a little at whatever plight ails the older man—and for whatever strange reason, she has a fleeting urge to help somehow. 

She blames it on her instincts.

* * *

Han is gone when she returns from the back later—and Chewie is in a noticeably darker mood. 

“Everything okay?”

He nods morosely. “Just a lot of bad feelings going around right now… and somehow I found myself smack dab in the middle.”

“Is your friend okay?”

“Ah, hell. He’s fine. Mostly. Just having a bit of a rough patch with his family right now.”

“How awful. He seems so nice.”

“He’s like you, you know,” Chewie offers quietly.

“Really?” She finds herself genuinely surprised. She’d placed him for a Beta, if she’s being honest—not scenting one trace of him or even picking up a tinge of suppressant. “I had no idea.”

“You wouldn’t. Does his damndest to hide it. Never served him well.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“Just thought it might be nice to see for you. You know, doctor and all.”

She can’t help the little laugh that escapes her. “Are you trying to tell me in a weird way that the sky’s the limit?”

If it weren’t for his thick beard, she might actually say he’s blushing. He rubs the back of his neck idly. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“Thanks all the same.” Rey bumps his hip with her own. “Sorry about your friend. I hope his family problems clear up soon.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he gruffs. “I’m going to go see where Klaud is napping.”

“Try not to hit him too hard,” she calls after him. 

He just waves a hand over his head, weaving between the crowd of bodies even though he’s a head above the rest. Rey sets about keeping herself busy—but she thinks about the older man with an easy smile and sad eyes for a long while after.

* * *

She’s quiet that night, when she comes into the apartment, and she isn’t sure if she’s relieved or disappointed to find the living room empty. She can’t pretend she hasn’t thought about the strange episode with Ben for a large part of the night—but she finds no traces of him now. 

The apartment is… clean. Almost sterile. Almost as if it’s been recently cleaned. Odd, she thinks, but perhaps Ben just has cleaning moods. She can’t complain—the lack of his scent leaves her a bit clearer minded. 

She needs to shower and brush the tequila from her teeth and climb into bed to sleep like the dead for about nine hours—but she lingers for a moment, outside his door in the hall. She can’t explain the strange thoughts she has standing there, trying to recall the odd draw she’d felt standing only a few feet from him earlier in the evening. Trying to make sense of it. 

Even without the distinct fragrance of him in her nostrils now, she can recall the way it had made her feel. She can remember just how it  _ gripped  _ her. 

She still can’t discern why on Earth it does so. 

Her hand is in the air before she realizes what’s happening, and she only  _ just  _ catches herself before she knocks at his door at two in the morning like some sort of crazy person. Her fist hovers in the air for seconds, or maybe hours—and her heart thuds in her chest unbidden from only the  _ memory  _ of his scent. 

She jerks back her fist quickly, holding it to her chest and covering it with her other hand as if afraid her body will act on its own accord. She takes a step back, moving towards the bathroom but sparing one last long look at the closed door. 

She still can’t be sure what it is about him that makes her so…  _ insane— _ but she thinks that one thing, at least, is for certain. 

She would sort of like to know her roommate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But how will she get to know him I wonder?


	4. For The Best

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cereal, scent, and sweet, sweet tension 🥣

In hindsight, it’s not the best plan Rey has ever had. 

It’s late, and she’s tired, and it’s been two hours since she actually got off work—but she’s become determined in these last few days since she last saw him. 

She thinks maybe Ben has worked especially hard to avoid her since then, not that she was seeing _ so much _ of him before, but still. Since that day with his sweat and his scent and his _ shower _ she’d almost invited herself to be a part of—it’s as if he doesn’t exist. There is nothing but the sharp sterility of their apartment, something that greets her every time she comes home, and she’s beginning to think it has little to do with Ben’s habits and _ a lot _to do with her presence. 

Which only spurs her on further with what she’s planned. 

So when she walks into the apartment well after she left the bar, having spent the last couple of hours wandering around a twenty-four hour supermarket—it’s with a lot less pep in her step than she might like. But it’s worth it, she thinks, when she opens the door to find him sitting at the kitchen table. His eyes widen a little, most likely thinking she was already fast asleep and locked away in her room, and if she had to guess, she would say that he nearly drops the spoon he’s holding right into his cereal.

“Rey?”

“Oh, hey,” she offers casually. “Wow. You’re up early.”

“It’s four-thirty in the morning,” he answers tightly. “This is always when I get up.”

She looks over at the oven clock innocently. “Is it? Wow. I didn’t realize it had gotten so late.”

She feels a little guilty, watching him swallow thickly, seeing the way he most likely wants to flee—but not enough to deter her. He averts his eyes finally, taking a slow bite of his cereal and chewing it with more force than she thinks is necessary. 

He doesn’t look up at her when he continues to speak. “Did you just get off?”

“Mhm.” _ Just a little lie. _“Late night.”

His hand stills near his bowl, his jaw working in thought as he stares down into it. “Do you normally stay out this late by yourself?”

“Sometimes,” she tells him honestly, setting her purse on the end of the counter. “Haven’t been kidnapped yet.”

She says it like a joke, but Ben isn’t laughing. Actually, not only can she see the change in his demeanor—she can _ smell _ it as well. 

It’s so _ heady. _

Even with that hint of anger, something like the slow burning of cedar in his normally calm forest—his scent is enough to make her dizzy. 

Which reminds her all over again why she wants to know him in the first place. She’s never met an Alpha who affects her like this, and she wants to know the one who does.

She crosses the kitchen casually, shuffling over to the fridge with none of the fatigue she actually feels—opening the door to rifle inside. She pulls out the jug of milk, holding it up in offering as she tilts her head in question. 

“Mind if I steal some of your cereal?”

He’s watching her now, eyes tracking her every movement as if she might attack him at any moment—and it’s hard not to shiver with his eyes on her like this. Still, somehow she manages to keep an even expression. She watches him give her a slow nod, and that’s all the permission she needs to dig out a bowl and a spoon and the colorful box he keeps hidden away in the cabinet—taking the seat across from him as she pours herself a bowl.

Ben watches her all the while, and she _ feels _his eyes on her, but she forces herself to remain focused on what she’s doing. She only looks up at him when she brings that first bite to her mouth, wrapping her lips around the spoon and flicking her eyes up to see the way he stares at the silver utensil that disappears past her lips. 

“I don’t know how you do it.”

He’s still looking at her mouth, she notices. “Hm?”

“Getting up this early every day.” She shakes her head, letting her spoon drop to the milk as she stirs it up slowly. “I couldn’t do it.”

“You get used to it,” he answers absently.

Rey makes sure only to inhale when that next bite is near her mouth, letting the sugary bits mask the climbing scent that wafts from his side of the table. It works. Mostly. 

“Have you been at the factory for a long time?”

She thinks he realizes then, just how fixed his eyes are on her—because he quickly averts them to take a forceful bite from his own bowl. “No,” he answers in a slightly more clipped tone. “Only for the last six months or so.”

“What did you do before?”

There’s a bit of guilt inside, knowing that she’s already fully aware—but she wants him to open up on his own. For reasons she can’t quite explain, reasons she’s not sure she _ wants _ to yet—she wants Ben to trust her with something. _ Anything _ about himself. She sees the way he tenses, slight but still visible, and for a moment she thinks he won’t answer. He takes a deep breath through his nostrils, slowly feeding another bite past his lips—and now it’s _ her _ that’s watching it happen. It’s not really her fault… It’s just that his mouth is so _ full. _

“Not this.”

Rey hums around the spoon she’s just popped into her mouth, thinking. Ben watches, and Rey thinks to herself that it’s a dangerous game they’re playing, but she can’t find it in her to stop. 

“Hm. Maybe I could guess. What you did before.”

She catches his gaze, watching his eyebrow raise and his mouth twitch. “Could you.”

“I’m very intuitive,” she tells him. “I’m sure I can.”

He makes a sound that is almost a laugh, shrugging a little as if to say _ go ahead. _

Rey narrows her eyes in thought, tapping the edge of her bowl as she contemplates what she might peg him as, if she weren’t already aware, of course. “Hm…” She purses her lips. “Professional cereal eater.”

Ben wrinkles his nose, his lips curling in an _ almost- _grin, and it’s a small thing, this shadow of a smile—but it makes her stomach do a little flip, warming her inside to the point that her glands prickle with interest. 

“No,” he answers quietly. “Definitely not.”

He takes another bite, and even still she can see the way his nostrils flare—and she can’t help but wonder if even now, he’s scenting her in the way she can him. If she _ affects _ him as much as he does her. The question is there on the tip of her tongue, wanting to ask about this strange thing between them, about the cleaning and the stares and _ all _of it—but not yet, she thinks. 

Instead, she takes a bite from her own bowl, chewing thoughtfully before she says, “A lumberjack?”

Now she _ knows _it’s a laugh he’s making—that little burst of air through his nostrils, because his shoulders shake with it. To be fair, she’s going slightly for outlandish here—hoping to coax him into wanting to correct her. 

“Why would you think that?”

“You wear… an awful lot of denim.”

“It’s prudent,” he answers bemusedly. “Doing what I do.”

“Still… you see all that denim… you think axe and logs—or maybe a cowboy?”

“Good to know,” he snorts, that not-quite-a-smile tilted down towards his nearly-empty bowl. “But no. To either.”

She begins to half-panic then, knowing that soon he’ll be readying to leave for work—and this easy moment she’s cheated for will be lost. 

“Let’s see…” She taps the end of her spoon against her lips, not missing the way he follows the movement when he looks back up at her. “You’re quiet… mysterious… _ massive—” _ His eyebrows quirk up at that, his mouth parting a little—but she blazes on even when it becomes difficult with the little flare of his scent this causes. “Maybe you were in the _ mob._”

She gives a little dramatic gasp for good measure, thinking she might win one of those little half-smiles she’s beginning to tuck away deep inside like treasures—so she’s surprised when his expression goes cold. When his lips turn down and his eyes turn hard. 

“I’m sorry,” she quickly corrects. “I was just teasing. I didn’t mean to offend you.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No. It’s fine.” He clears his throat, clearly done with her game. “I… was a lawyer.”

She’s won her game, with this info—but if the expression he now wears is any indication—she thinks it’s not much of a win at all.

“That’s… a big career change.”

“Yes,” he answers tightly. “Yes, it is.”

Admittedly, she’s begun to think of what Ben might look like in that profession—commanding a room in a dark suit—and she squirms a little in her chair even as she regrets this line of questioning that so obviously upsets him.

But she’s hungry now—hungry for any scrap of information he’ll give her. 

“Any… particular reason you made such a drastic switch?”

He clears his throat, dropping his spoon down into his bowl without looking at her. “It wasn’t… exactly my first choice.”

“Really? What—”

“I need to get to work.”

He pushes away from the table, and something inside her shrinks away at the thought of having displeased him—a visceral urge to soothe whatever wound she’s picked at until the furrow in his brow smoothes into something softer. Something she might even press her mouth to. 

She blanches a bit at that last thought, realizing that Ben seems to incite all sorts of unbidden things.

“I’m sorry,” she offers. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine.” He says the words, but his voice is still strained and tight. “I just don’t want to be late.”

She’s struck with an urge to say something—_ anything _to fix whatever she’s done to upset him, so much that her skin feels itchy and tight with a need for it. She tucks her hands beneath her thighs just to keep from pushing away from the table herself and going to him, still unsure where any of these urges are coming from.

But she remains quiet, watching him put his dishes in the sink before he stalks across the kitchen to grab for his work boots that sit by the door. He slips into them, not even bothering to tie them really, and she can tell he’s in a rush now to leave. That he’s doing his best to get out of this apartment as fast as he can—out of this apartment and away from her. 

“Thank you,” she blurts out without thinking, desperate to do anything to preserve this tiny moment she’s won. He looks up at her with visible confusion, and she swallows around the lump in her throat. “You know, for talking with me. It was nice.”

She knows she sounds lame and probably a tad pathetic—but she can’t make sense of the creeping disappointment inside that stems from him being so keen to get away from her. From the fact that she’s _ displeased _him. She's still sitting on her fingers, but she finds she needs to grip the edge of her chair tighter to force herself to remain where she is. 

His eyes move over the lines of her face, his expression unreadable, but she doesn’t miss the way his throat bobs with a swallow. The way his fingers clench and unclench at his sides. 

“It was,” he says finally, so _ quiet. _“Nice.”

“We could do this more often,” she mentions softy. “If you wanted. No reason we can’t—”

Ben’s jaw goes tight. “It’s okay. We don’t have to do this. You don’t have to feel obligated.”

“I don’t feel—”

“Plus, you’re leaving in a couple more weeks, right? It’s fine, Rey.”

Her tongue feels heavy with the need to argue, but the reminder of her time left here makes _ all _ of her feel heavy. Because truth be told, she hasn’t really looked for another place to stay. She’s made half-hearted queries, sure, but mostly just to keep up the illusion that she’s looking. She can’t even say why—she knows it’s silly, that it’s _ ridiculous_—but something holds her back. Something, she thinks, that has a lot to do with this mysterious roommate of hers that doesn’t seem to want to know her—even if she’s half-certain that he wants _ other _things in regards to her. Other things that plague him just as much as they do her. 

But she doesn’t say any of these things. How can she? Instead she just nods, averting her eyes to her lap. “Right. Sorry.”

“Don’t be—” He takes a deep breath, releasing it through his nostrils. “I have to go. See you later, Rey.”

He’s gone then, the door slamming behind him, and the echo of it makes the little apartment seem larger, _ emptier_. She is thrown by the lingering dejection that creeps through her—her hindbrain practically mewling with self-pity because _ she doesn’t please Alpha. _

It’s ridiculous, and unfounded, and it sort of makes her want to smack herself in the forehead—but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s there. 

Rey leans back in her chair to stare at the ceiling, wondering what in the hell has gotten into her. She isn’t naive by any means, she knows what this attraction between them (and she’s more than certain now that Ben feels it too) means, knows that their biology is working against them, knows that it is little more than hormones and a connection that is older than both of them. 

But it’s never been quite like _ this. _

She isn’t sure what to do with… everything else. Isn’t sure what to do with this odd need to _ know _him. 

Rey blows out a breath, thinking to herself to push it aside for right now. To throw herself in the shower, then fall into her bed and forget all of this.

For now, at least.

* * *

And it works. For the most part. The warm water washes away some of the tension in her muscles, the heat of it seeping down inside to heat the lingering chill left by Ben’s obvious rejection to her attempts to connect with him. 

Even now, after nearly two weeks of dancing around him, she hardly knows anything about him at all. It’s a little frustrating, and a lot disheartening, but she thinks maybe that’s just the way it will be. 

She really needs to put a little more effort into finding another place—or she’s going to be right back where she started. 

She sighs as she steps out of the shower, wrapping the towel she brought in with her tightly around her body after using it to dry out her hair a little. She tosses her washcloth in her hamper—a little pink number with a pattern of daisies that Armie got her back when she first moved in with him—then rolls her shoulders before she reaches for the handle of the bathroom door with every intention of throwing herself into bed and hopefully not waking up for ten hours. 

But she steps out too quickly, or maybe he is rushing, she can’t be sure—but for whatever reason, _ Ben _ is there just outside the door, half in a run it seems to get back down the hall, but colliding straight into _ her _as she exits the bathroom.

She doesn’t know why he’s still here, he left twenty minutes ago after all, and he’s so _ close _ and she’s so _ wet _and for a moment she can only stare up at him, her hands braced against his chest and his hands wrapped around her shoulders to steady her. 

“I’m sorry, I—” _Oh, God. _He’s too close. _Far _too close. There is nothing. _Nothing _to block the onslaught of his scent that is sharp and potent and _climbing _with every second. He’s staring down at her with wide eyes, mouth parted a little in shock, she thinks, and she’s still scrambling to remember how to make words. “I thought you left,” she says finally, barely more than a breathy sigh.

“I…” His nostrils flare, and unless she’s imagining it, his thumb slides down _ just _ a fraction to send a shiver down the back of her arm. “Forgot.” She thinks she can _ see _ the way his pupils dilate. “Forgot my ID card.” She _ definitely _doesn’t imagine that second stroke of his thumb against her bare arm. Does he even realize he’s doing it? “I can’t… get into the plant without it.”

His _ voice. _ The words are innocent, but the tone of it has descended to levels that make her think of being somewhere else. Somewhere that she’s wearing just as little as she is now… but with Ben in an equally compromised state. She imagines his hands touching her with more purpose, and his voice murmuring things of a different kind—words like how _ good she is _ and how _ wet she is _ (because she is, she completely is right now, and it has nothing to do with the shower, and she’s not even sure it’s a _ conscious _ thing). And oh, his _ knot. _ She’s never thought of a knot before. She’s never _ had _ a knot before—nothing but fumbled attempts with faceless Betas, but _ oh— _ she’s thinking of it now. How thick it might be, how it might _ fill _ her—and these thoughts assault her from nowhere, and she can’t seem to shut them _ off, _and Ben—Ben, he—

She’s never seen someone escape so fast. 

The imprint of his fingers still feels like a tangible weight, even after he’s peeled each of them off heavily as if it _ pains _him to do so—but then Ben stomps down the hall with an almost inhuman-like speed, and the door slams behind him with enough force to rattle the floorboards beneath her. 

Rey can’t even move afterward, leaning against the wall as she struggles to catch her breath. Her chest heaves beneath the towel, her fingers clutching the terry cloth tight even as her skin now shines with sweat that negates the efforts of her shower—a large part of her silently pleading that he come back. That he take _ care _of her.

She closes her eyes, still thinking that she should work harder to get out of here. That it’s obvious from what just happened that even if Ben _ does _ feel this _ pull _ in the same way that she does—that he obviously wants _ nothing _ to do with it. She tells herself that maybe it’s for the best. To get out of this situation before it causes her any real heartache. 

And it is, probably. For the best. Absolutely.

She just doesn’t know if she’ll survive that long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now get ready for eight more chapters of Rey moving into Armie’s place and not being knotted by Ben  
(Lying liar who tells lies)


	5. But You Did

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stg these two will bone. I swear. I don't know why I'm like this.
> 
>   
[colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) spoils me she is so talented. 😭

She hasn’t been able to focus on much since the morning.

It’s been a matter of hours since their tense morning at home, but it feels like so much longer than that. When she closes her eyes she can feel his hands on her, and when she opens them she can still see that look in his eye as he drank in the sight of her barely-dressed and so _ wanting_. 

Because she was, in that moment. Wanting. She wanted very much. She does still, she thinks. 

She knows it’s ridiculous, she hardly knows anything about Ben after all—but every moment she’s stolen with him only makes it that much worse. It’s getting to the point where it’s hard to concentrate on little else but just how _ distracting _he is. 

Even here, at the bar, the one place she has real _ freedom _ from it—she can’t seem to keep still. Her skin hums with some frenetic energy, buzzing with a need to seek him out. To _ go _to him. 

Does he feel this pull like she does? Because it’s consuming her every waking thought at this point. 

“You okay?”

Rey startles at the sound of Chewie’s voice, behavior that isn’t like her at all. “What?”

“You seem jumpy tonight.”

“Oh.” She swallows heavily as she tries to collect herself. “Yeah. Sorry. I had a weird morning.”

“Weird, how?”

“Just…” She’s not sure what to say now, all her thoughts too wrapped up in _ Ben _ and _ Ben _ and more _ Ben. _“Just a bit of weirdness with my roommate.”

“Do I need to kick ass?”

Rey laughs under her breath. “No, no. I can handle it. I just… don’t think they like me very much.”

“Sounds like an idiot to me,” Chewie gruffs.

Rey’s grin is easy “I appreciate the sentiment.” 

“You know you can always—”

“I know,” she sighs, interrupting him. “I know.” She breathes deep through her nostrils, thinking. “Who knows. Maybe I’ll take you up on that. Maybe I’ll—”

She’s distracted when the bell over the bar door jingles, and all the air in her lungs feels trapped when she spots a familiar hulking figure pushing inside. He scans the bar slowly, looking as if he’d rather be anywhere but here—but she’s unable to look at anywhere but him. Has he always been so… _ commanding? _ Is it only _ her _that he affects like this?

“Rey?”

She jumps a little, having completely forgotten that she was in the middle of a conversation. She whips her head back in Chewie’s direction, feeling dazed. “Huh?”

“What's the matter with you, girl?”

“O-oh,” she stammers. “Nothing. Just forgot what I was going to say.”

“I swear you’re off your rocker lately,” Chewie grumbles. “Oughta get more sleep.”

She nods aimlessly, trying her best to look as if the rest of the room hasn’t _ completely _died away, but she thinks that the chances that she’s pulling it off are slim to none. Not with the way her thighs are pressed together or the way her breath has grown shallow. She stares down at the bar pointedly, making a show of wiping away a nonexistent spill as her heart hammers away in her ears. 

_ Why is he here? _

She thinks maybe he’s here for Chewie. That maybe his reason for visiting has absolutely nothing to do with her, it’s _ likely _ even, and she uses this mantra to calm herself because she is all too aware that she _ still _hasn’t told Chewie of their… arrangement.

So it takes her by surprise, when he stops just in front of her at the bar. It takes her longer than it should to look up, assaulted by the scent of him that holds her captive, and is there really _ no one _ else that can scent him as she does? Is it really only just _ her? _

She tilts her head up slow, lips parted beyond her control when she meets those dark eyes of his—and she doesn’t miss the way his fingers grip the edge of the bar. The way his jaw works subtly. The tightness of his features that confirm that _ yes— _he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

“Hey,” she breathes. 

“Hey.”

“_Hey,” _Chewie huffs from beside them. “You too intent on a drink to greet your uncle?”

Ben looks confused, eyes moving between herself and Chewie. “What? No. I just needed to—”

Rey drops her rag to wipe her hands on her apron. “Oh, are you Ben?” She pastes on a tight smile. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Ben’s eyebrows raise, mouth opening and closing before his gaze flicks back to his uncle who looks to be just as thrown by the oddness of this interaction as he is. She begs him with her eyes to stay quiet. Begs him not to out her like this, hardly even knowing why it _ matters _so much to her—and blessedly Ben’s features smooth over into a look of nonchalance. “Yeah.” He sticks out his hand. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“I’m Rey,” she tells him, a tingle of electricity passing under her skin when she takes Ben’s hand to shake. The warmth of it is stifling, and for a moment she imagines that his thumb slides across the back of her hand lightly in a way that’s less than innocent, but she tells herself that she’s being ridiculous. “I’m Chewie’s…” Her brow furrows, having never had to label their relationship before.

“Headache, mostly,” Chewie teases, saving her from having to do so.

Her anxiety lessens, the tense atmosphere Chewie hadn’t even been aware of dissipating with his interruption. She rolls her eyes good naturedly, knocking her shoulder against his. “Sure.”

Ben watches this exchange quietly, and she thinks perhaps he wants to say something, but again she gives him a pleading look. She watches his chest rise and fall with the way he breathes deep, and with the expulsion of his breath she is again hit with a blast of his scent that leaves her glancing around because does Chewie really not notice? 

Chewie leans over the counter, obviously _ not _as riled by Ben’s scent as she is. “So what brings you by, Ben?”

“Oh.” Ben frowns, flicking his eyes to Rey for only a moment, and she _ knows _he came here for her. She just can’t be sure why. Just the idea that he came looking for her has her heart pounding a little. “Just… wanted to say hi, I guess.”

“You just get off?”

Ben nods. “Little while ago. Had to pick up a new key to my apartment.” He casts a brief look towards Rey. “Super changed the locks on us. Lot of break-ins lately.”

Oh. _ Oh_. He’s only bringing her a key. A key to _ their _ place. She flicks her eyes to Chewie nervously, stamping down the brief disappointment. Of _ course _ it is something so simple. Why _ else _would he come looking for her? 

“Whole world is going to shit,” Chewie grouses.

Ben only nods, and it’s hard to miss the way he looks at her again. Almost as if he can’t help it. Is he also thinking of this morning? Is he thinking about how _ warm _ his hands were, wrapped around the chilled skin of her upper arms? Is thinking about how absolutely _ incredible _he smells right now, looking at her like he is?

Doubtful, at least in regards to the last one. 

Rey swallows thickly, clearing her throat. “Oh, um, Chewie? Could you grab some more glasses from the back? Lando already broke two tonight.” 

“What?” Chewie scoffs. “I swear to the good Lord above, one of these days I am going to kick that old son of a bitch out of here.”

“I highly doubt that,” Rey laughs softly, pointedly not looking at Ben.

Chewie is still grumbling as he tosses an: I'll_ be right back _ in their direction, stalking away down the length of the bar and disappearing into the back as Rey’s eyes remain fixed on the place where he just disappeared. She can feel Ben’s eyes on her, feel the weight of them as if he’s actually _ touching _ her—and she takes a long, steadying breath before slowly turning her head to meet his gaze. 

“Lando,” she chuckles nervously. “I don’t know if you’ve met him, but he’s always—”

“Why haven’t you told Chewie yet that you are living with me?”

Her jaw snaps shut, her tongue feeling heavy as she mentally shrinks away just a little under the heat of his gaze. “I meant to, I just…”

“He’s not going to like this,” Ben sighs. “And I don’t need to give him any more reasons to be disappointed in me.”

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she offers. “I just—you said it would be temporary, and he already told me it wasn’t a good idea, and I—”

“Wait,” Ben interrupts. “You mean to tell me that you had already ran the idea by him, and he warned you off of it?”

She has the good sense to look contrite. “Yes.”

She doesn’t miss the flash of hurt that passes over his features, and it tugs at something inside. It pulls at some thread that she’s never been aware of because she wants to _ soothe _ him. Her fingers clench and unclench at her sides, watching his shoulders rise and fall with his sigh.

“And you still went through with it?”

“I’m not afraid of you, Ben,” she tells him quietly.

His throat bobs with a swallow, eyes brushing over the curve of her mouth as his jaw works. She _ knows _ he’s thinking about it then. Can see the tension he left her with written all over his face—but then he looks away, the moment lost, and he reaches into his pocket for a shiny new key that he lays on the bartop. 

“I guess it won’t matter soon, anyway,” he murmurs. “Only a couple more weeks, right?”

“Right,” she says softly, picking up the key and slipping it into her pocket. “Just a couple more weeks.”

“You _ are _ still looking, right?”

“Of course I am,” she only half-lies. She glanced at the rental ads, after all. “I’m looking at one this weekend.”

Okay, so _ that _ is a whole-lie.

“Good.”

It shouldn’t sting so much, his clipped answer, but it does. Is he so ready to be rid of her?

He spares a glance down the bar then, clearing his throat. “I should get going. Early morning. Will you tell Chewie I said goodbye?”

Rey nods solemnly. “Right. Early morning.”

“Right.” He’s looking at her again, and all the air seems to rush out of the room, and _ fuck _ how she wants to _ touch _him. “Be careful,” he tells her. “Coming home.”

_ Home. _ She likes the sound of that, which is ridiculous. She thinks maybe she’s starting to lose it.

“I will,” she assures him. 

He turns to leave then, giving her his back just as the little bell over the door sounds again. Ben freezes in his tracks when it opens to an older man that Rey recognizes—the pair of them standing stock-still as they stare each other down. 

_ Han_. His name is Han. Rey is opening her mouth to greet him, intent to break up the strange tension between he and Ben—but Han beats him to it. 

“Ben.”

Ben’s nostrils flare, a strange look on his face that Rey can’t place. Something almost like regret, she thinks. Or anger—but Rey has the oddest feeling that it isn’t directed at the weathered Omega that seems haunted just to _ see _ Ben. 

Ben nods tersely. “Han.”

“Come on, son,” Han sighs, taking a step closer. “Don’t be like that.”

_ Son. _Pieces begin to connect in her mind, and she watches helplessly as the situation unfolds. 

“I’m not being like anything,” Ben grinds out.

“You haven’t answered my calls,” Han tries quietly. “I’ve wanted to talk to you.”

“Did you want to tell me _ I told you so?” _

“What? No. of course not. Ben, I—”

“Because I don’t need your disappointment in me,” Ben goes on tightly. “I can assure you I have enough of that for myself.”

“Ben, I’m not—”

Rey notices the way Ben has taken a step back in retreat, noticed the way his back hits the bar and his fists are clenched tight, and she can’t help the way he reacts, seeing him so on edge like this. She reaches out to place her hand over his forearm from across the bar, a movement that comes entirely from _ instinct _ it seems, and Ben’s eyes fly down to where she’s touching him, breathing hard before he flicks his eyes up to meet hers, and there is something like _ terror _ there. Something that seems out of place on his normally strong features. She doesn’t know what happened between him or his father, but she can see that whatever it was still wounds Ben. That it still haunts him very much.

His gaze flicks between them, flying from her hand to her face to his father’s, and there is something like _ panic _ there now—and she wants to take it away, wants to _ do _ something, and she—

He pulls away from her touch quickly, shrugging away to spare one last glance at his father before pushing away from the bar and stomping past the older man to exit the bar entirely. Rey feels an overwhelming urge to go after him, shifting restlessly from behind the bar—only saved from giving in to it when Chewie appears suddenly from where he’s been hiding in the back, cardboard box in hand and confused look on his face when he notices his friend still lingering near the door with a forlorn expression.

“Oh boy.”

Han sighs as he shuffles across the bar to slump onto a stool. “It went about as well as you might think.”

“I told you he needs time,” Chewie reminds him gently, setting the box on the bar and rubbing at his neck. He turns to Rey then. “Ben didn’t get wild or anything, did he?”

Rey wrinkles her nose. “What? Of course not. He just…” She casts an apologetic look at Han. “He just left.”

Chewie claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, offering him a sympathetic expression. “He’ll come around, I tell you. He has to deal with himself first.”

“I would never judge him,” Han says woefully. “Doesn’t he know that? I just don’t want to miss anymore time with him. That evil prick he worked for already stole so much.”

“I know, I _ know_.” Chewie blows out a breath. “It’s just that he—” Chewie notices the way Rey is listening intently, clinging to any scrap of insight into Ben Solo. “Rey, do you mind? I think some of the tables probably need to be checked on.”

Rey resists the urge to pout, huffing a bit before she spares one last glance at the sad, older man who looks so utterly _ lost_. She can’t help it. She can’t just say _ nothing_.

“For what it’s worth,” she offers. “I think he’ll come around.” Both men give her a curious look, and she shrugs. “I know I just met him—” Not _ entirely _ a lie—it hasn’t been that long, after all. “—but I just know that… well, he’s your _ son.” _ Han doesn’t look convinced, and she gesticulates aimlessly. “I’m just saying, if I actually _ had _ parents—there isn’t anything that could make me hate them forever. Family doesn’t work like that.” Chewie frowns in thought, and she feels heat flood her cheeks because she _ rarely _ talks about her life before he found her. She clears her throat. “Anyway. I’m just saying.’

“I appreciate it, kid,” Han tells her. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she mutters, moving away from them both to leave them to their conversation.

She stays clear of them for most of the night, even if her mind wanders with thoughts about Ben and Han and _ all of it— _ having more pieces of the puzzle that is her roommate but finding them useless because she still has no _ idea _ what happened in his life to make him this way. Has no idea what it is that he’s been through that would make him so withdrawn and _ jaded_. There’s just so much about him that she wants to _ know. _ Everything, really. Especially why she can’t seem to stop _ wanting _ every little bit of him that she _ does _ know. _ Especially _ whether or not there is any part of him that might want her just as much.

She wants to know about _ that _most of all.

* * *

The sound of her alarm is blaring at four-thirty in the morning, but to be fair she only just got home around midnight—so her body is justified in the way it protests to being forced out of bed so soon. She shuts it off quickly to ensure Ben won’t hear it, shooting up out of bed as quickly as her body will allow her to. 

She stretches her arms high over her head, hearing her joints pop with stiffness as she lets her feet land on the thin carpet below her bed. She crosses the room over to her door, and if she presses her ear to the wood she can _ just _hear the sounds of him moving around in the kitchen—no doubt pouring up a bowl of that cereal he loves so much. 

It’s weird how much the thought makes her smile. 

She turns her doorknob quietly, shuffling out into the hall and moving to the bathroom to duck inside. She assesses herself in the mirror for a moment, rubbing at her eyes and splashing a little water on her face—then flushes the toilet for good measure before stepping back out into the hall. 

She pads down the narrow hallway slowly, peeking around the corner to find him sitting at the kitchen table, broad shoulders moving idly with every rise of his spoon as the work denim stretched there just begs for her to touch it. She takes a deep breath, stepping out of the hallway and doing her best to seem like she _ didn’t _plan this entire interaction. 

She rubs her eyes for effect, stepping over to the cabinet for a glass. “Morning,” she yawns.

She senses the way he goes still behind her, the sound of his spoon scraping against his bowl going quiet as she pulls down an empty glass and places it under the spout in the sink to fill it with water. 

“You’re… up early,” he says quietly. 

“Needed some water,” she tosses over her shoulder. “Throat was dry.”

“Oh.” She turns to catch his eyes flicking up quickly from where she’s sure they were just fixated on her bare legs sticking out of her sleep shorts. “Right. Water.”

She takes a slow sip from her glass. “So, you know… since I’m up…” He cocks an eyebrow, and she swallows down her drink, never tearing her eyes from his. “That was your dad, huh? At the bar earlier?”

His mouth forms a tight line, and he looks down into his bowl. “Yes.”

He doesn’t offer any more, taking a slow bite without giving her his eyes again. She pouts only a little before recovering, setting down her glass and crossing her arms.

“Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“Not really, no.”

Her brow furrows. “It seemed pretty… intense.”

His spoon clatters in his bowl, Ben releasing a slow breath through his nostrils as he finally allows himself to look at her. “What are you doing, Rey?”

She shrugs one shoulder, averting her eyes guiltily. “I was just curious.”

“Why?”

“I mean…” She tugs at the edge of her shirt in a nervous gesture. “We live together. Don’t you want to get to know each other a little better?”

“I seem to recall your selling point of this idea being something along the lines of _ you’ll barely know I’m here.” _

“I know, but—” She shuffles her foot across the tile idly. “I just—”

“It isn’t a good idea,” he interrupts quietly. “Getting to know each other.”

She hates the way such a simple statement can make her chest feel tight. “Why not?”

“I’m not a friend you want to have.”

He doesn’t look at her as he says this, and she can hear the pain of it. Can _ feel _ the way only _ saying _ it makes him unhappy. Mostly because she can feel how much he _ believes _ it.

She bites at her bottom lip, shifting slightly in place because even now, even with the way she can scent his rising aggravation, he just… _ draws her in. _ Her eyes take in the way his hair falls across his forehead. The way his throat bobs with a heavy swallow. The plush curve of his mouth that she finds herself _ dying _ to know how it might feel—and she thinks she can agree with that. He’s _ not _ a _ friend _ she wants to have.

She thinks maybe she wants a little bit more than that.

“What if I do?”

His jaw goes tight. “We can’t be friends.”

“We could be,” she argues. “If you just—”

“We _ cannot _ be friends,” he grinds out.

“Ben, surely you don’t think—”

“_Rey.” _ His breath shudders out of him in what is almost a growl. “Do you know how impossibly hard it is just to _ live _ with you?”

She falls quiet, any coherent thoughts she might have been having dying away into nothing. “Hard?”

“Everywhere. Everywhere I _ go.” _ He’s practically grinding his teeth now, almost as if he’s in pain. “You’re _ everywhere_. Your clothes and your voice and your _ scent—” _ He _ does _ growl then. “You said you would up your dosage.”

She sucks in a breath. “Ben, I—”

“You said it would be _ easy.” _

“I—” She is still struggling to formulate an actual sentence. “Ben, I… I _ did _up my dosage.”

He looks up at her with wild eyes, and she sees everything he has been trying to hide. Sees the way he’s been _ struggling_. She feels it deep down inside because it mirrors _ everything _ she feels. His mouth open and closes aimlessly, eyes wide and dark and _ so lost_—and she takes a step forward completely on instinct, drawn to him as if pulled by a string, and the way his eyes widen further, the way he sucks in his breath—it’s as if she _ terrifies _ him.

“I think you should go back to bed, Rey.”

It’s quiet, hardly more than a whisper, but it cuts her down to the core because Alpha wants her but _ Alpha doesn't want to want her. _

She wants to tell him she will do that if he comes with her. That she’ll walk out of this room and crawl into her bed if _ he comes too— _ but even though everything inside her begs her to _ beg _for it, she can see how futile it is. She can see it in the way he’s staring down at the table, mouth drawn into a tight line and hands gripping the edge so tight she actually wonders if the wood might break—and she lets her hands fall to her sides in defeat.

“Okay,” she says softly, wondering what it is about her that he so desperately wants to cut out of his life.

She can’t really look at him either, feeling the dejection deep down in her belly, and she swallows past the lump in her throat as she trods past him towards the hall. She lingers just before she rounds the corner, looking over her shoulder to find him still staring down at the table rigidly.

“I’m sorry, Ben,” she offers quietly. “I wasn’t trying to uproot your life.”

He doesn’t answer, not that she gives him a real chance to, turning on her heel and fleeing down the hall. She misses the way his head falls in his hands, the way his shoulders shake with the way he releases the breath he’d been frantically trying to hold, and she can’t possibly hear the quiet whisper of _ but you did _as it lingers in the space of their tiny kitchen.

Rey misses every bit of this, not stopping until she’s safely tucked inside her room, her back pressed against her door and her eyes shut tight as the force of Ben’s rejection floods through her. She tries to wipe away the image of his expression burned into her vision, tries to pretend he _ hadn’t _ vehemently admitted that she affects him while also practically saying that he _ absolutely _ wishes she didn’t. She has experienced a lot of disappointment in her life—but she doesn’t think she has ever felt quite as _ alone _ as she does in this moment. Rey thinks she would give anything to never feel like this ever again.

She knows she has to get out of this fucking apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bUt ShE dId 😫


	6. Maybe You Should Be Scared

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI. I’m sorry, I had no idea it had been an ENTIRE MONTH since I updated this. I meant to come back to it much sooner, but then again I never thought I’d be in a situation where I’d be distracted by writing a fix it fic. 😭
> 
> I’m very sorry to come back after all this time with this angsty chapter (but hopefully by now you expect it). But hey! At least there’s dry (although not too dry) humping!  
  
This amazing gif board was gifted to me by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍
> 
> Disclaimer: while my husband wears Axe, I for the life of me cannot remember what they all smell like. So. Don’t take offense to the scent I downed in the same way my sweet Jen did. I’m sure Apollo smells very nice.

“Can’t _ believe _you lied to me,” Armie grumbles for the dozenth time. “Affordable apartment with a sweet old lady my freckled a—”

“Oh, come off it,” Rey huffs. “I know, okay?”

“Well!” He balls up one of her sweaters she is _ absolutely _ not getting any use out of with the rising temperatures outside, tossing it into an open box, to which Rey immediately fishes it out to fold it properly. “An _ Alpha, _ Rey. Do you know how dangerous that is?”

Rey rolls her eyes. “Ben isn’t dangerous.” She frowns as she recalls his large hands and his wide mouth and that _ scent _of his—well. “Not like that, anyway.”

“So… how good looking is he?”

She feels her face heat. “Don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, now _ you _ come off it.” Armie clicks his tongue. “You call me up after two straight weeks of lying to me like a little hussy, half in tears saying you just _ have _to get out of here—I know lovestruck when I hear it.”

“I don’t _ love _ him,” Rey argues in exasperation. “I just…” She sighs. “There’s just something about him. I just… wanted to get to _ know _ him.”

Armie gives her a unconvinced look, and she tosses her freshly-folded sweater back at her friend, watching it smack him dead in the face. He’s laughing a little as he pulls it away, shaking his head. “I can’t believe he called you out on your dosage. Isn’t that like, incredibly rude?”

“I mean a little,” Rey admits, “but you should have seen him. He looked so… _ bothered. _ I think he genuinely didn’t realize I’d done as I said I would and upped it.”

“Is that… normal? To still smell you like that?”

“Not… really.”

Armie wrinkles his nose. “I won’t lie to you. I am _ not _envious of all this smelling business. Thankfully, Poe just smells like too much Axe body spray.”

Rey cocks an eyebrow. “Really?”

“_Dark Temptation,” _ he tells her. “Current favorite. It’s much better than _ Apollo_, at least.”

“Somehow none of this surprises me.”

“So, like…” He makes a face, lowering his voice as if telling a secret. “What does _ Ben _smell like?”

Rey thinks about it for a moment. It’s not exactly appropriate conversation, but she thinks maybe it might relieve some of the tension she’s currently holding, to talk about it with someone. She inhales deeply, releasing it slowly as she recalls that toe-curling scent that feels like a warm bath she’d like to sink into.

“It’s like… trees. Just after a rainstorm. It’s… fresh. _ Warm, _ but also cool. It makes you…” She swallows. “Makes _ me _ feel like I’m outside. Out in the open. Out in the middle of nowhere with nothing but that scent of his.”

“That’s…” Armie clears his throat. “That’s intense.”

“It’s distracting.”

“And you just… live with that?”

“Ben seems to be having similar difficulties.”

“Forgive me if I’m being a complete dick here,” he starts, “but wouldn’t the simplest option be to just… go for it?”

“You’d think,” Rey grumbles.

“I wonder what _ you _ smell like.”

Rey has never thought about it before. She frowns, shrugging. “It’s sort of like using a laundry detergent for so long that you don’t notice the way your clothes smell. I couldn’t really tell you.”

“But it apparently drives Ben just as crazy.”

“It would seem so,” she sighs. 

“I really don’t get Alphas.”

“You’re telling me.”

“Well,” Armie offers cheerily. “At least you know there will be nothing waiting for you at our place but copious amounts of drugstore body spray.”

“Perfect,” she laughs. “What a relief.”

“Not that I’m not happy we’ll be roomies again or anything,” he goes on, “but why haven’t you told Chewie about any of this?”

She frowns, a familiar guilt creeping up inside. “I just don’t like that I lied to him, or that I went behind his back.”

“But he would understand, right? If you explained it?”

“I don’t know…” She drops the shirt she was in the middle of folding down into her lap. “There’s some sort of… issue between them all. I don’t know what exactly it is… but I just…” She heaves a sigh. “I hate the thought of disappointing Chewie.”

“I get it,” Armie nods. “Our little secret.”

“Right. Ben won’t tell him.” She frowns as bitterness creeps into her voice. “He’ll just be happy to be rid of me.”

“Alphas,” Armie snorts.

She nods. “Right.”

“I’m hungry. What do you have to eat in this place?”

She pushes up from the floor, setting aside her pile and frowning at the barely-touched one of Armie’s. “Yeah, you’ve worked up a real appetite over there.”

“Moral support, babe.”

She rolls her eyes. “Just what I needed.”

He rises from the floor to follow her out of her bedroom, both of them pressing down the hall in search of the kitchen. Armie settles himself in one of the chairs at the kitchen table, watching as Rey rifles through their cabinets. “I have… boxed mac-n-cheese, generic, mind you, and…” She pulls a box from the second shelf. “Literally four kinds of cereal.”

“Four kinds?”

“Ben… has a weird thing for cereal.”

“I guess it’s not the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“The best part is, his favorite kind is that bland wheat stuff. The one that’s really good for you.”

Armie sticks out his tongue with an _ ack _ sound. “Okay, but _ that’s _ the weirdest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rey laughs under her breath, the sound tapering off as something sharp pangs in her chest. She’s never thought it was weird. In fact… it sort of strikes her as endearing in a way.

“You’re mooning,” Armie calls.

She shakes her head, grabbing for the mac-n-cheese instead. “Am not.”

“Whatever you say.”

She’s crossing to the fridge to get the milk, just about to toss something in argument over her shoulder, when the turning of the key in the lock distracts her. There’s a prickling sensation that hums along her skin, Rey standing straighter as she watches the door open abruptly, yielding Ben’s massive form as he steps inside. He lingers there for a moment, clearly thrown to find them both in the kitchen, eyes passing over Rey in surprise before flicking across the room towards Armie to give him something that is far less cordial. 

“Ben,” she says quietly. “What are you doing home?”

His expression is hard to read, but the tightness in his jaw is less so. “I can see you weren’t expecting me.”

“Well, no? You don’t get off for a few more hours.”

Ben is still staring at Armie sitting at the kitchen table, his nostrils flaring a little. “Shift swap,” he says lowly. “My relief came in early.”

“Oh, well… okay.”

There is a moment where no one moves or speaks, and the tension is thick, _ palpable— _weighing down on her in a way that makes it a little hard to breathe. There is something in Ben’s scent she recognizes, something she hasn’t scented on him since that first night. Since he’d threatened another Alpha right in front of her.

His jaw works, his words coming out harsh and grated. “I’d appreciate it if you were… a little more discreet with your… visits.”

His scent is flaring now, less a gentle rain but a downpour, and Rey feels for a moment like she could drown in it, like she _ wants _ to—but she can sense it now. The vibrating anger that roils just beneath the surface of him. Can scent it as it washes over her even from across the room. She tries to make sense of it even as it makes her dizzy, because there is anger and yearning and _ want _ there, and why would he be angry? Why is he still looking at Armie like—

Rey’s brow furrows, things beginning to click into place. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying.” Ben sets his keys on the counter, stepping out of his boots to leave them by the door. “It would make it easier on everyone if you were more discreet.”

She turns her head to regard Armie, but he’s rooted to the spot, lips pressed into a tight line as if he’d rather eat his own mouth rather than respond to what’s happening. “Are you—” She’s sputtering a little, feeling anger burning low in her belly at what he’s suggesting. “Are you _ seriously _ saying that I—”

“Yeah,” he cuts her off, not looking at her and casting a hard expression down to the floor instead. “I’m going to shower.”

He leaves them then, stomping off down the hall and leaving Rey in a shocked state of bubbling anger. She stares at the table with a blank expression, mouth parted and brow wrinkled, all of it bubbling up and over when she hears the slam of the bathroom door down the hall. She stomps her foot in irritation, letting out an exasperated sound as Armie grimaces from the kitchen table. 

“I think I might like to die now,” he squeaks.

“The only one that will be dying is _ Ben _ after I murder him.”

“I can assuredly say that was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever experienced.” 

She throws up her arms. “You think?”

“Is that—” He shakes his head as if still trying to make sense of what just happened. Rey knows the feeling. “Was that an Alpha thing?”

“It was an _ asshole _ thing.”

“Was he implying that you—that we—”

“Yes,” Rey seethes. “Yes, he was.”

Armie whistles lowly, pushing away from the table. “Yeah, I think that’s my cue to leave.”

“But you were supposed to help me pack!”

“Yeah… there is no way I am going to still be here when he comes out of that bathroom. Let’s try again tomorrow, maybe.”

Rey huffs out a breath. “I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.”

Armie stills in his mission to get to the front door. “Are you sure that’s a good idea? He seems very… agitated.”

“I’m _ not _ scared of him.”

Armie laughs nervously. “Well. That makes one of us.” He spares a glance down the hall with a worried frown. “Are you going to be okay here?”

She waves him off. “It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I hope so.”

“Go. Call me later.”

“If you’re still alive.”

She rolls her eyes as she ushers him out the door, taking a moment when it’s locked behind him to collect herself. On the one hand, something inside preens at Ben’s reaction. The idea that he would be territorial, be _ jealous— _ sparks something inside that is beyond anything that she could ever actually _ control. _ It’s an all-over sensation that is reminiscent of stretching in the sun, muscles working and skin warm, feeling _ alive. _

But it doesn’t dull the anger that lives there too, warming her in a different way. 

She paces the kitchen for a handful of minutes, waiting for what feels like forever for Ben to come back out, but it almost feels as if he’s lingering. Her irritation simmers beneath the surface, every minute that passes only stoking that fire, only riling her up further. Until eventually she can’t really stand it anymore. 

She feels bigger than she is, stomping down the hall to rest just outside the bathroom door. She feels braver, pounding her fist against the wood. 

“Ben.” She knocks again. “Ben, you have to come out some time.”

His answer is clipped and harsh. “Go away, Rey.”

“Like hell I will,” she seethes. “You’re going to come out of this damned bathroom and talk to me.”

“Go _ away, _Rey.”

“You’re not just going to come in here and act like that and then just—”

The door swings open, and Rey is altogether _ not _prepared for what comes out to greet her. 

He’s dressed, technically, but not enough to keep her from being a little thrown. The ribbed black tank is too form-fitting, clinging to him in ways that give her the visceral urge to reach out and trace the ridges with her fingers. She feels herself gaping, trying to process low-slung sweats and tight tank and wet hair and at his _ chest _. She can’t see the tattoo, not all of it—but there’s some distinct shape peeking out of the scooped neck. Something in a dark green that looks like a leaf of some sort.

All of this together makes it hard to remember what she was so angry about.

“Well?” His words come out like they’re difficult to form, his breath ragged as it expels from his nostrils. “I’m out. What do you need?”

“What do I…” She frowns, remembering then _ exactly _what she was so angry about. “You acted like an ass in there. You made my friend very uncomfortable.”

His lips purse. “Your friend.” 

“_Yes,” _ she hisses. “My _ friend.” _

“You don’t have to lie to me, Rey. I don’t care what you do, I’m just asking that you—”

“But that’s a lie, isn’t it.” She clenches her fists, rising to every inch of height she has even though it’s not enough, not _ nearly _enough to see him eye to eye. “You stomp into the apartment acting like a jealous brute even though just last night you acted like I was ruining your entire life.”

His scent is spiking now, creeping into her nose and her mouth, so heavy she can _ taste _it. “You think I’m jealous?”

She pokes a finger in his chest, and he looks down at it with a flash of surprise as if her touching him never crossed his mind. “I do. I think you pretend like you don’t want to be around me because you actually _ do, _and for whatever reason that scares you.”

He lowers his head, bringing his gaze to her level. “You think I’m _ scared_?”

“I—” Her finger still rests against his chest, but it’s slack now, nearly a caress of her entire hand. She swallows thickly. “I do.”

He takes a step, and Rey mirrors by taking a step back instinctually. His eyes that are normally a smooth amber burn now, growing darker by the second. He takes another step, and again she tries to mirror the action, but there’s a wall at her back now that prevents her from escaping anywhere. He’s so close now, and her heart pounds, and he smells _ so good _even with the wild tinge of it, and he—

“Maybe _ you _ should be scared, Rey,” he tells her quietly, _ dangerously. _“Have you ever thought of that?”

Her voice sounds all wrong, too hushed, too airy. “I told you that I’m not afraid of you.”

He doesn’t answer, she doesn’t think that he _ can_—not with the way he’s looking at her. Like he wants to flee and consume her all at once. Her hand is flat against his chest now, and she can feel the thrumming of his heart beneath, pounding wildly in an unsteady rhythm. There is nothing but his scent now as it swirls around her, as it wraps around like fingers pressing into her skin to leave a mark. 

She presses up on her toes slowly, as if in a trance, and Ben doesn’t move, doesn’t _ breathe—_and she senses then just how afraid _ he _ is. She doesn’t know why, can’t fathom it, but in this moment reason is lost to the distance between them. To the closing gap between his mouth and hers. It’s soft, when her lips press against his, barely-there, almost non-existent—and she closes her eyes to linger, allowing him to adjust to the sudden contact. And she feels his heart beat wilder, hears his breath grow ragged, _ feels _the tension in him wind tighter—

Until it all snaps. 

It steals her breath, the way he lifts her, the way he presses her against the wall. Her legs wrap around him without thought, and his fingers are in her hair, tugging and twisting until her throat is arched and bared to the onslaught of his mouth. He licks at the gland beneath her ear greedily, drinking her in there and making some rumbling sound that she feels all the way down to her toes.

Her hands roam over his skin, smoothing over his shoulders and the strong muscles of his back, feeling them tense beneath her touch, feeling his _ entire body _winding tight as he molds her to him. He flattens the broadest part of his tongue flat against her gland, licking a slow stripe there as that same sound reverberates deep inside until it seems to almost rattle her bones.

She can feel him against her, pressing thick and _ hard _ against her belly, and there is little else that occupies her thoughts outside of knowing what he would feel like, how she might _ take _him. He ruts up slow, the head of him dragging her shirt until it bunches at her navel—and there’s a sticky wet there that she can feel through the cloth of his sweats. 

She whimpers in his hold, winding her arms around his neck and pulling him closer, _ tighter—_nearer to her gland where he lavishes mindless attention. 

“He smelled you like you,” he growls against her skin, flicking his tongue at the heated little patch of skin. “_Covered _in you. Did you know that?”

“N-no,” she whimpers, arching into him. “He was—” She gasps when she feels a scrape of teeth at the swollen expanse of her gland. “He was—”

“What was he,” Ben rasps, sucking below her jaw. “What _ is _he to you?”

“Nothing,” she whimpers. “_Nothing, _Alpha. He’s nothing. Just a friend. He’s—”

“_Why did he smell like you?” _

“He was—” Aguttural moan escapes her as his cock slots between her legs, slick coating her underwear now. “He was just—” Her head falls back as colors blur together, her senses in full overdrive now. “_He was just helping me pack.” _

Ben goes still, and she whines in protest, wriggling closer. He pulls away from her slowly, _ carefully—_almost as if it pains him—tearing his face from her throat to lean back and look at her with wild eyes. There is no color in their depths now, the pupils dilated so far that they appear black as his chest heaves with effort.

“Pack?”

She feels panic creeping in at the displeasure in his voice, because _ no no Alpha is upset fix it make it better—_and she scrambles to form coherent sentences with the way her gland still throbs, with the way her fluids are still trickling out of her. 

“You said—” She takes in deep gulp of air, trying to center herself but only worsening her condition with the way his scent permeates _ everything _now. “Last night you said—”

She watches the change in his demeanor play out like a terrible progression of events she can’t stop, only witness—the dawning realization of just what's happening, just what they’re _ doing _ sinking in for him all at once. She feels his hands leave her, and everything in her begs them to stay. She feels his body pull away, and her entire being _ screams _in protest. 

She reaches out instinctively. “Ben, wait—”

“Stop.” 

It’s not a word; it’s a warning, a _ command. _ She feels it creep down her spine and through her limbs, part of her wanting to resist but a larger part _ basking _ in the all-over pleasure that comes with obeying. His hands encircle her wrists, keeping her from touching him as she wants to—but the pressure is sharp and warm and _ good _in its own way. 

“Ben, don’t—”

His jaw is tight, his nostrils flared. “This is what I didn’t want.”

_ No no Alpha doesn’t want me Alpha doesn’t— _

“Please,” she whines. “Please, don’t—”

“I didn’t _ want _ this,” he grinds out. “Don’t you get it?” He makes some frustrated sound, baring his teeth. “You don’t. How _ could _ you? You don’t know me. You think you do, but you _ don’t. _ I have been a pawn for half my life, Rey. Bound to a cause that was never really mine, that I never let myself fully see the evils of, all because of my own _ stupid _ choices. Bound to a man who was never who I thought he was, who wanted nothing but to _ use _ me as he did everyone else. Nothing but a pawn. Never in control of _ anything._ _” _ He releases a shuddered breath. “I don’t want to be that again. Not for this. Not even for _ you.” _

She can feel herself losing him, and she _ doesn’t _ understand, doesn’t even think she’s _ capable _ , with the frenetic energy that begs to keep him. She feels her lip tremble, _ needing _him in a way she doesn’t even fully understand in this moment. 

“It isn’t like that,” she argues breathlessly. “It isn’t—”

“Isn’t it?” His body shakes, she thinks with the strain of how much _ he _ wants to touch her again. She knows he does. She _ knows. _ “You wouldn’t want me, Rey. You _ wouldn’t. _ Not if you knew me. This isn’t real. This thing between us. It’s not who we are, it’s _ what _we are.”

_ No no that’s not true it isn’t— _

“Yes, I would,” she begs. “I _ would.” _

“You _ wouldn’t.” _

“So you don’t—” Her chest hurts just _ thinking _ about it, and for the life of her she can’t even discern _ why. _ “You don’t want me?”

Ben’s breathing is uneven, his eyes softening for a moment as they brush over the lines of her face. His mouth opens and closes, his throat bobbing with a swallow before his answer comes low and quiet. 

“No,” he tells her. “No, I don’t.”

Rey feels something inside her splintering, the warmth that had filled her only moments ago turning cold and unforgiving. She looks down at her feet if only not to let him see the way her eyes cloud, nodding softly. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

“So am I,” she whispers. 

There is still some part of her that wants him, a very _ large _part if she’s being honest—but that tiny voice that begs her to keep her dignity bridles it into submission. She pulls her wrists from his grip slowly, peeling herself away from him with great effort as she puts distance between him. 

When she meets his gaze he looks as if he’ll say something, and for a moment some foolish part of her thinks that he will take it all back, that _ yes he does Alpha wants her— _but his lips remain tightly pressed together, and his body remains just as rigid. 

Turning away from him in that moment might be the hardest thing she’s ever done—but she doesn’t stop until she’s out in the blessed air of the apartment hallway, out where his scent can’t touch her, where his words can’t hurt her. 

Mostly.

Rey bounds down the stairs two at a time, hardly even knowing where she’s going.

Hardly even sure if she’ll be coming back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does it help you at all if I tell you that the “accidental voyeurism” tag is about to be very relevant?


	7. If I Knew You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, my accidental voyeurism nearly dipped into full blown voyeurism (just barely, but still) so mind the new tags just in case. 
> 
> Also I will have you know I drew a very hasty diagram of this scenario for my beta's viewing pleasure and she was less than kind. It's good, right?  
  
Okay, so not the best, but here's an updated version I made after being mercilessly ridiculed:  
  
Just imagine Ben in front of the sink.  
Here's hoping this enhances your reading experience.  
  
This incredibly hot gif board was made by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

There is a part of her that had every intention of staying away.

A very _ large _ part, by the end of her aimless walk to the coffee shop at the corner, larger still after a few hours of mindlessly ordering just as much coffee that she’s able to with the handful of bills in her pocket. She’s a jittery mess on the walk back home—no, not home, definitely not hers, Ben has made that very clear. The air is muggy and hot even at the late hour, the rising temperatures of the summer offering no reprieve even in the dead of night. It has sweat creeping down the back of her neck and between her breasts and does nothing for her mood. Her thoughts race as she treks towards the apartment, replaying every moment that occured in Ben’s hall over and over and _ over _ again. 

She’d been so sure. For one moment, she’d been absolutely _ sure _ that she’d been right about him. That he wanted her just as much as she’s beginning to realize that she wants him. 

_ You wouldn’t want me, Rey. You wouldn’t. Not if you knew me. _

She doesn’t know what she hates more: that she thinks Ben _ actually _ believes that, or that she will likely never have the opportunity to show him otherwise. She likes his quiet voice and his quieter demeanor. She likes that he treats smiling like a chore. She likes that he has an odd penchant for cereal.

She thinks really knowing him would do nothing but give her new things to discover, new things to like. 

But Alpha doesn’t want her. 

Even now it makes her chest hurt, the wriggling rejection worming its way deep inside to hollow her out, leaving her feeling empty. 

And the worst of it is… it’s her own fault. 

He warned her didn’t he? Fought her at every turn. It’s only ever been _ her _trying to get closer. Trying to make something from nothing. Allowing her senses to overrule her good judgement. 

Stupid, basically. 

It’s late now, and she tells herself that he will most likely be asleep, that she won’t be forced to see him again. Won’t be forced to relive that look in his eyes. The one from the hall. When he said he didn’t want her. 

She won’t let an Alpha make her feel like this. Never again.

She has a loose plan of returning just long enough to grab the essentials quietly while Ben sleeps, thinking that she can crash at Hux’s until she can come back for the rest of her things. She hates everything about being forced to impose on someone again, but is placated with the knowledge that she can at the very least help Hux and Poe with rent. It’s the only thing that makes her feel any better about the whole thing. 

The apartment sounds silent from the outside, when she presses her ear to the door, and she lingers there for several moments if only to assure herself that Ben is actually asleep. The thought of having to face him again so soon after their encounter is actually _ painful. _

She turns the key in the lock slowly, quietly, pushing open the door with equal care. The kitchen is dark, the living room beyond in the same state. She creeps through the darkened room as quietly as she’s able, wrinkling her nose when a sharp scent of something sterile like too much cleaning products assaults her senses. 

_ Had he really needed to erase any evidence that she had ever been here? _

She purses her lips, refusing to let it get to her and taking another step to round the hallway that leads to her bedroom—but she goes rigid when she sees the soft light of the old fixture in the bathroom spilling out into the hall. The door is only slightly ajar, but she can see a shadow cutting through the faded light, shifting minutely and inciting mild panic inside her.

_ He should be asleep. _

For a moment she has no idea what to do, whether to just flee to her bedroom or _ flee _ in general—and she remains frozen to the spot for a good number of moments as she wrestles with what the best course of action is. She thinks she could creep by if she is quiet, thinks she could make it to her room and hole up there until he _ actually _ goes to sleep—then continue on as planned. It isn’t as if he will come looking for her. Isn’t as if he will even _ care _ that she’s here, and she thinks it’s a solid plan, thinks it’s _ perfectly doable— _

But then she hears it.

It’s soft at first, a sharp inhale followed by a shuddered exhale—but there’s something about it that’s familiar. She hears him make the same sound, recognizing the labored state of his breathing and remembering when she heard those same sounds only a few short hours ago. When she _ felt _ them panted against her gland—and it isn’t the only sound the bathroom yields. She thinks at first she might have imagined it, thinks that there is no way that he could have _ possibly—_but then he utters it again, lower this time, _ rougher. _

“_Rey.” _

Her mouth is parted in mild shock, but her body moves of its own accord. She takes a careful step, and then another, padding softly to the slightly-open door to peer through the sliver of space above a hinge between it and the wall. She can just make him out there, standing at the vanity on the opposite wall behind the door, offered a good view of his broad back that is still wrapped in the snug tank from earlier. Her fingers itch to trace the definition of muscle in his back and shoulders, but she stamps down those urges, reminding herself of what he’d told her. That he doesn’t _ want _ her. 

But she wonders if that’s true now.

Because her name is on his lips, and even if his back to her, the mirror above the vanity offers everything _ else _ that isn’t afforded to her in her line of sight—and she can see _ everything. _ There is a brief moment where she thinks she should step away, where she recognizes she’s seeing something private, something not _ meant _ for her—but then he says her name again, softer this time, and Rey thinks that’s all the invitation she needs. It isn’t as if she can step away, her body is _ frozen _ to the spot, drawn here like a moth to a flame with no will of her own. 

Rey watches on as if in a trance, her blood rushing in her ears as she takes in the sight of him. The tank clings to the taut skin of his abdomen, sticky and dark with sweat, or perhaps something else. His sweats are shoved down haphazardly, and above that… _ fuck. _

It’s a visceral thing, seeing _ all _ of him. His cock is long and thick and _ so hard _ as he grips it roughly, stroking from the head down to the base to coat himself with his own fluids that seep from the tip. Rey’s entire body goes still, her breath trapped in her throat, because it is one thing to _ feel _ him—pressed against her belly as he ruts mindlessly against her—but it is another to _ see _him. Her throat feels as if its full of cotton, dry and too thick as she uselessly attempts to swallow around the uncomfortable sensation. 

And there is _ so much _ of him to see. 

His expression is so tight it almost seems pained, eyes screwed shut as one hand covers his mouth and nostrils, something she can’t make out fisted in his hand and pressed so close to his face she wonders if he can even breathe outside of it. His other hand works himself with a punishing grip, lingering to fist near the base that wholly draws her attention. 

Rey has never seen a knot before.

She knows the mechanics of it—knows what it does, what it’s _ for—_but _ seeing _ it. She wonders if that is as big as it gets. Its thicker than the rest of him, darker in color, the skin there looking just a bit less smooth. Making her wonder what it might feel like inside. Ben groans into this hand that still covers his face, eyes fluttering but not quite opening as one broken word falls out of his mouth.

“_Rey.” _

Her heart beats wildly in her chest, and there is some fleeting thought that creeps through her senses, wondering if he might scent her, if he might _ know she’s here—_but with the way his hand covers his face so thoroughly, she thinks perhaps he is too distracted to do so. 

He’s rutting into his hand now, curling a bit over the vanity as his body shudders and his breath leaves him in ragged pants. She can hear her name like a chant now, like a record on a broken loop—and she feels the way slick pools in her underwear at the knowledge that it is _ her _ that occupies his thoughts while he finds his own pleasure. 

A quick glance down the length of him yields that swollen flesh at the base of his cock beginning to thicken impossibly further, and her eyes go wide at the idea that it will get _ bigger— _ squirming at the thought of what it might feel like inside. Would he say her name like this then, too? Would he whisper it into her hair as his knot swelled to impossible proportions? Would it be painful? Would it be _ wonderful? _

She can’t help the way her hand drifts lower, the way her fingers tease at the edge of her athletic shorts to slip beneath them hurriedly. She’s slippery with slick and _ so hot _ between her legs—wet enough to feel one beaded trickle escape down her thigh in a shameful display, but she’s too distracted by the all-over relief that courses through her when she presses into her clit. She has to cover her mouth with her other hand, her limbs trembling as she forces herself to keep quiet, working herself at a pace that’s less than patient.

Ben’s hand that covers his face slams against the wall suddenly, his teeth bared and his breath leaving him in a hiss as he jerks his fist roughly down his cock, twisting a bit as he shakes with it. There is a peek of something white poking out of his grip, bleeding into a slightly brighter color that is only _ just _ visible—but she is quickly distracted by the way he says her name again, louder this time, like a moan, like a _ growl. _ The hand that grips his cock presses to the wall as well then, the other that holds _ something _ replacing it as his mouth falls open in a shaky inhale, moving his hand slowly down his length with less aggression, giving a soft caress now that feels less like abuse and more like one might touch a lover. His teeth trap the fullness of his lower lip, biting down to leave an impression, tucking his chin into his chest as his eyes peer down at the way he touches himself, eyes hooded and hard to make out in the reflection above the mirror with the angle of his face and the way his right arm blocks her vision. 

But she can see the way he begins to pick up his pace, sliding his fist upwards to linger at his cockhead, gliding back down as he hisses out a breath, wrapping around his rapidly-swelling knot, fisting there as he shifts his hips to gain some minor friction. His mouth falls open, his breathing reduced to sharp intakes of air, and Rey dips her fingers down to curl _ just so _ inside as her eyes flutter and she imagines just how much _ more _ it would be if it were _ him. _

Ben is breathless now, _ shuddering _ with the effort to keep upright, and with every exhale she can hear her name escaping him like a whispered mantra that holds him together. With every utterance she finds herself climbing higher, her fingers swirling around her clit now at a frantic pace, almost able to imagine that there is no door between them, no space, no complications—that it is _ Ben _ touching her this way. That it is _ her _ touching him in turn. 

It’s enough to get her there. 

She shakes through it, pressing her lips together so hard that it’s painful, refusing to make a sound as she trembles with the hasty orgasm she’s given herself. She doesn’t realize at first that her eyes are closed, stars blooming behind them as the most sensitive part of her trembles against her fingers in the aftermath of her release. She’s hardly breathing when she finally lets them flutter open, just in time to see Ben rutting into his fist with his head tilted back and his mouth open and slack. 

She watches the way his hands and his body and his _ cock _ trembles with his orgasm, his hand wrapping around the head of him to catch the thick fluid that pumps out of him with every shuddered movement. She can’t say how long it takes him to still, holding the end of his cock and giving it gentle strokes to effectively _ ruin _ whatever it is he holds, she is sure, and it is only when his head lolls forward that she remembers the insanity of this. His eyes are closed, hand still wrapped firmly around his still half-hard length, trying to catch his breath.

When his arm that is extended against the wall loses some of the tension its holding, when it falls more slack to allow her to fully see his expression in the mirror and from the side, Rey can’t think of anything outside of the overwhelming _ grief _ there. She wants to know what he mourns. Wants to know what is that makes him feel so unworthy. She wants to know why he would look her in the eye and tell her he doesn’t _ want _ her—only to do _ this _ long after she’s gone. 

“Rey.”

Her mouth parts at his tone, so soft she can barely make it out, full of something that is reminiscent of actual _ longing. _ It cuts right down to her core, right down to the place that wants _ him— _ wants him so much that it’s _ stifling— _ filling her up until it’s painful. For a moment she can’t move, can’t think, can’t _ breathe— _ but then his hand grips the edge of the vanity, the other pulling away from his cock to reveal a still-swollen knot with nowhere to go—and Rey realizes then the _ gravity _of her situation. 

Because he is going to come out of this bathroom soon, and Rey… What on Earth will Rey say? What _ can _ she say about this? There is no explanation, no excuse for the way she stood here and _ watched _ this moment that he never meant for her to see, and she feels panic flooding her insides as she scrambles for the correct course of action. 

She backs away from the door slowly, quietly, _ carefully—_putting silent distance between herself and the bathroom aimlessly without any real idea of where she’s going. She can hear the water come on in the bathroom sink, and she takes the opportunity to quicken her pace a bit as she makes a hasty decision to head for the kitchen in lieu of her bedroom, knowing that there would be no way to pretend she didn’t see what happened if she suddenly just showed up in her room. Not trusting the thin walls to hide her sounds and keep her presence from Ben known. 

Her feet scrabble for purchase as she makes a hasty and half-coherent decision, turning the knob to the kitchen door quickly to open it wide before closing it with just a little more gusto than necessary. Just enough to ensure he can hear her _ coming home. _ She hears the way the water shuts off suddenly, hears some muffled sounds of hasty movement that she assumes are as panicked as she feels, and she desperately tries to calm the pounding of her own heart as she stands shell-shocked in the kitchen. 

He’s there moments later—only half-put together, clothes righted at the very least and eyes wide with something that she thinks probably mirrors her own. “Hey,” she says quietly, shakily, trying to seem as if she’s just come home. “I…” She prays her demeanor is reflective of their last encounter, not of the knowledge that there is still slick between her thighs that is born of her watching him pleasure himself to the thought of her. “I thought you’d be asleep.”

She watches him swallow thickly, watches his eyes rake over the length of her as he assuredly tries to reconcile her being here with what he’s just done. “”I…” His chest is moving a little more rapidly than it should be, but she thinks that’s a given. “I couldn’t sleep.” 

“Neither could I.”

It doesn’t make sense, what she’s just said—of _ course _ she can’t sleep, she’s been out and about for all he knows—but it’s all she can manage right now. Ben’s mouth open and closes, his eyes moving frantically as if they mirror the racing thoughts she is sure he is experiencing. Wondering if she somehow knows what he’s just done.

“I was worried,” he says quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to. “About you.”

Rey’s breath catches, something dangerous like hope fluttering in her chest. “Really?”

“I didn’t… I…” His brow furrows. “I didn’t mean to… hurt you. Like I did.”

Rey looks at her shoes, pursing her lips. “I guess you were just being honest.”

_ Even if she’s not so sure about that now. _

“Still, I… I hated that I didn’t know where you were. I hated thinking I drove you to do something reckless.”

_ Alpha _ does _ care, _ something inside whispers dangerously. _ Alpha worries. _

“I’m fine,” she offers quietly, her breath quickening a little. “I just needed to think.”

Ben nods slowly, still looking at her as if he isn’t sure what to do with her, or maybe that he _ is, _ he just can’t bring himself to. “Are you… staying?”

“I was going to grab a few things and crash at Armie’s.” She notices the way his jaw tightens, and beyond her control she adds: “Armie and his boyfriend’s, that is.”

She doesn’t miss the way he visibly relaxes, and she wants to comment on it, wants to _ shake _ him really, but she keeps quiet, not quite ready to feel the sting of another rejection, be it honest or not, so soon. 

“You don’t have to,” he offers softly. “You don’t have to leave in the middle of the night.” He takes a deep breath. “Get some sleep. You can…” He swallows as if his next words are more difficult. “You can worry about packing tomorrow.”

Rey looks at him for a long time, wrestling with the choice of keeping quiet about what she _ knows _ he knows just happened in their bathroom—ultimately deciding to keep it to herself, for now. Not having the energy to witness another one of his brutal sessions of denial and self-loathing this soon after having suffered through the first. 

“Okay,” she agrees. “Tomorrow.”

Ben looks both relieved and tortured all at once, and every part of her wishes that she knew what he was thinking. She takes a step towards him unconsciously, only halting herself with the sharp inhale that racks through him, stilling as she opens and closes her mouth, trying to find the words. She takes another step then, feeling there is still a sticky wet between her thighs, and the shifting of it is not lost on Ben, she thinks. She watches his nostrils flare and his eyes darken impossibly further, and she wonders if he knows. Wonders if there is a part of him that _ knows _ that she saw him. If there is a part of her that _ knows _ that the lingering slick that drenches her underwear is for him. 

She thinks with the look in his eyes she could convince him to have her right now. Thinks that the surely raw emotional state of him after having touched himself so fiercely would make him helpless to it, to _ her—_but that isn’t how she wants him. She doesn’t want him to _ give in _ to her, she wants him to be with her because he absolutely _ wants _ to. Besides, she hasn’t forgotten the way it had sliced her open to hear him say that he didn’t. Want her, that is. It’s something that she won’t soon forget. Something not to be rewarded. Even if she now questions the truth of it.

“Ben,” she says in a tone barely above a whisper. “I just… I need you to know that I—” She looks up at him, something almost like fear in his eyes, which is ridiculous, _ unheard of—_the idea that he would be _ afraid _ of her. She takes a deep breath, steeling herself. “I just need you to know that I think you’re wrong.”

She sees the way his expression grows pained, and she knows he thinks she is referring to what he said, that he doesn’t want her. “Rey, I—”

“About what you said,” she cuts him off, watching his frown deepen. She takes another step, standing just to the side of him and looking up at this quiet, broken Alpha that she wishes she could know. “When you said I wouldn’t want you,” she clarifies. “If I knew you.” His eyes go just a little wider, his mouth parting in surprise as his breath catches. Rey lets her fingers graze the bare skin of his arm, barely-there and light but how he _ shivers _ with it. “I think I would want you very much,” she breathes. “If you’d let me.”

She doesn’t linger, not really having the strength to see what her words do to him, not having the resolve to find out if they even affect him at _ all— _ and she hastens down the hall with purpose, never slowing until she’s safe behind her bedroom door. She is quiet as she leans against it, nothing but the sound of her own heart thumping in her ears, listening as Ben doesn’t move at first. She hears the heavy weight of his steps soon after, and for a moment she wonders if he will come for her, if he will knock on her door and tell her that he _ will, _he will let her—but then there is a quiet opening and closing of his bedroom door, and Rey’s breath leaves her in a disappointed rush. 

She grounds herself with everything she learned tonight, everything she thinks Ben never intended for her to know, and it’s almost enough to take the pain away from the memory of him telling her that he didn’t want her. Almost enough to make her rethink what he’s said, about not wanting her. Almost enough to make her think impossible things. 

Almost enough to make her think that for whatever reason, Ben is a _ liar_. 


	8. I Lied

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I PROMISE YOU THIS IS THE LAST SUPER ANGSTY CLIFFHANGER  
  
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The knock at her door takes her by surprise.

For a moment it feels like some sort of waking dream, her body having never quite settled into anything resembling restful sleep but just there on the edge—but the second soft knock jars her as her eyes fly open, and her hands slide under her pillow in a languid stretch. She lifts her head from the mattress to peer at the clock on her bedside table, seeing the early hour and frowning in mild confusion.

It’s hot for this hour, for _ any _hour, really—her hair clinging to her temples and her nape, her shirt doing much of the same as it sticks to her torso uncomfortably. She frowns at her little window unit that sputters along, seeming less active than usual. She tries to rationalize the knocking with her still mostly-asleep brain, coming up with nothing. 

Until she hears his voice.

“Rey?”

She sits up, more alert now than she was a moment ago, brow furrowing as her brain catches up to the idea that Ben is outside her door. That he’s coming to _ her. _ The events of the night prior come rushing back: the way he’d said her name, the way he’d touched himself, the way he’d seemed so _ worried _about her—all of it. She wonders what it is that would have him at her door so early. Only a short time before he’ll leave for work. 

Her legs slide over the mattress to let her feet touch the floor, her toes brushing along the soft rug there and scrunching slightly in an anxious movement as she fiddles with the hem of her sleep shorts. 

She hears her name repeated through the door, softer this time, almost as if he’s about to give up and walk away. She knows she could let him, that she could keep this distance, that it would be _ easier—_but she is all-too-aware that there is little hope of that. That she is too drawn to him, too _ bound _to step away now. 

Her fingers curl around the doorknob to linger, taking a deep breath as she can almost _ feel _ the weight of him on the other side. It’s slow, the way she pulls it open, peering around the edge as if she is _ actually _ afraid of him in the way she assures him she wasn’t. She supposes the reality of it is that she _ is—_just not in the way he thinks. 

Ben looks… for lack of a better word, wrecked. His hair is wild and loose as if he’s been running his fingers through it for the entirety of the night, his eyes appearing haunted and red-rimmed from lack of sleep even in the darkened hall that is lit only by the light of the kitchen beyond. 

“Ben?”

“I’m sorry,” he starts roughly, hands braced on either side of the door. “I don’t—” He draws in a shaky breath. “I don’t even know what I’m doing.”

She is afraid to move, clinging to the edge of the door and keeping herself slightly tucked behind it as if to protect herself. Not from him, never from him—but as if the distance will somehow protect her heart from any further damage he might inflict with his rejection. 

“What’s wrong?”

He makes some pained sound that she thinks is a laugh. “What’s wrong?” He huffs out another as he looks up at the ceiling. “_ Everything.” _

“I don’t understand,” she answers quietly. 

“No. How could you?” He shakes his head. “How could you ever understand when I am the way I am?”

She doesn’t think talking will improve the restless state he seems to be in, so she forces herself to remain quiet, letting him work through whatever it is he came here to say. 

“I lied to you,” he tells her roughly, eyes turning down to settle on her face. She feels the weight of them like fingertips against her skin, and she grips the door a little tighter. “I _ lied_, Rey.”

Her breath catches, heart pounding in her ribs as the sounds of her little air conditioning unit seems to die away, leaving only the heavy silence that stretches between them.

She swallows, her fingers so tight at her door that she thinks she could almost leave an impression. “What did you lie about, Ben?”

“I lied when I—” He draws in a ragged breath, and his scent blooms in the air, climbing higher and higher, making it a little hard for her to breathe. She feels sweat trickle down her spine, and she wonders if he suffers in the same way. She thinks he might, with the way his chest rises and falls rapidly. He closes his eyes, letting them linger for a moment, opening them slowing and looking determined. “I lied. When I said I didn’t want you.”

Rey can hardly think with the weight of this admission, feeling something like elation warring with worry because what made him change his mind? 

“But you said—”

He makes a frustrated sound. “I _ know _ what I said.”

“Ben, have you slept?”

He shakes his head, and she feels something roil in her belly because there is an overwhelming urge to _ soothe _ whatever ails him. A desire to _ take Alpha’s pain _ that she can’t shake. One that she can’t even help, she thinks. 

“I can’t stop,” he chokes out. “Can’t stop thinking about you.” His arms shake a little with the way they’re outstretched, hands still braced against the doorframe and _ vibrating _ with a need for _ something. _ “I haven’t stopped since I saw you in that bar. So small. _ Too small. _ Such a tiny thing. When he touched you—when that _ motherfucker _put his hands on you—” She hears the wood straining under his grip, and she shivers with some sort of primal satisfaction as she listens to his remembered displeasure of another Alpha touching her. He draws in an unsteady breath through his nostrils, releasing it slowly as he whispers, “I haven’t stopped.”

Her chest is warm and tight, her skin humming with some frenetic energy as she has to physically _ keep _ herself from going to him. From closing that small gap between them and burying herself in his shirt and his scent and just _ him. _“Then why did you—”

“Because I _ am _ afraid_,” _ he growls, louder now. “I’m _ terrified. _ I meant what I said, Rey. It’s _ not _ a good idea. It never _ will _ be. The things I’ve done—the things I’ve allowed to _ happen— _you deserve—” He grits his teeth, grinding out the words as if they pain him. “You deserve more than I could ever give you.”

His words hover in the air between them, their weight making them harder to stay afloat. As if each one slowly tumbles down to her feet to settle, weighing her down a little too. It feels difficult to take that first step, even more so to peel her hand from the wooden door frame and reach out between them—letting it linger just beyond the fabric of his shirt, her fingers clenching and unclenching lightly before she draws it back to rest against her chest, feeling the pounding of her own heart.

“What if that isn’t your decision?”

His eyes widen, mouth parting and nostril flaring. “Rey, you can’t—”

“You’ve made all these decisions _ for _ me without ever even bothering to ask what _ I _wanted, Ben.”

His jaw tenses. “Because you can’t—”

“You don’t get to tell me what I _ can’t _ do.” She takes another step. “You are _ not _ my Alpha.” She’s breathing too hard, a rushing of blood in her ears that comes from the sticky heat on her skin and beneath it. There are a handful of seconds timed with the rapid _ thump _ of her heart, and her voice is softer now, the words more difficult. “...even if I might want you to be.”

Ben takes a step in retreat, looking slightly panicked. “You don’t mean that.”

“How can I know that?” Her voice is beginning to rise again as the frustration burns brighter, _ hotter. _ “How can _ either _ of us, when _ you _ won’t even acknowledge that something is _ here?” _

“I just want what’s be—”

“Don’t you say you want what’s best for me, Ben Solo.” She grits her teeth, rushing after him even as he continues to peddle backwards. “Don’t you _ dare.” _

His back hits the wall, and she’s there, she’s _ right there, _ knowing this is what got them into this situation in the first place. Always unable to stay away. Always so _ close—_but never as close as Rey would like to be. 

His expression softens, his mouth turning down in a frown and his brow knitting. “But I do, Rey.” And then just a little softer: “I _ do.” _

Her senses are alight with the heavy scent of rain, so thick she can almost imagine the droplets of a quiet downpour gliding over her skin, filling her nostrils and her mouth to pour down her _ throat. _ Her lungs inflate only to expel, filling her up with more of him, taking in everything there is to take. 

“And what about what I want, Ben?” One more step, she’s so _ close _ now. “Doesn’t that matter?”

He doesn’t answer, but she can see the way his eyes darken as she closes the distance. Doesn’t miss the way his chest is moving with more effort now. She reaches out her hands tentatively to flatten against his chest, drawn by something older than both of them and helpless to its pull.

“What if I want this?” She licks at her lower lip, pushing against his chest to slide her hands higher, the tips of her fingers grazing along his throat. “What if I want _ you?” _

His eyes flutter when she curls her palm around his throat, making some rough sound when her fingertips press into the heated flesh of his gland. “Rey. _ Rey. _You can’t—”

“Don’t fucking tell me what I can’t do,” she growls. 

Then she kisses him.

She thinks he’s surprised at first, with the way he goes rigid against her, but Rey is patient. She coaxes his mouth open with a gentle swipe of her tongue, she rubs her fingers into the warmth of his gland—and Ben… Ben goes a little wild with it. 

His hands settle at her lower back, pulling her closer, tugging her _ harder—_bending her body with the force of his body pressing into hers as he tries to eradicate any space between them. 

“It’s not”—his teeth scrape along her jaw as he licks there after—“a good idea. We can’t—” He groans as her leg comes around his hip, trying to find a way to soothe the ache in her cunt against the straining front of his worn jeans. “_Fuck, _Rey.”

“_Alpha_. Alpha, _ please—” _She drags her tongue across his Adam’s apple in a mindless search for his gland. “Don’t you—don’t you want—”

“_You have no idea.” _ His hands curl over her ass to pull her closer. “What I want. _ No idea.”_

“Tell me. _ Please.” _

“I want”—his nose grazes across her cheek, mouth slack against her skin as it follows after—“to break you. I want to”—she feels the warm wet of his tongue flicking across the soft lobe of her ear—“touch every part of you.” His teeth are rough against her gland, his lips closing there to suck as much of her skin into his mouth as he’s able. “With my hands”—his palms slide up the length of her, bringing her shirt with it until the searing heat of his hands meets her skin that is just as hot—“with my tongue”—he flattens the heated organ across her gland, lingering as he hums there—“with my _ cock”— _ he tilts his hips so that she can feel the rigid length of him slotted against her cunt—“I want _ everything.” _

“Then do it,” she begs. “_Do it. _Don’t be afraid, Ben. You don’t have to be afraid. You just have to—”

It’s the second time this morning, that the sound of knocking has drawn her out of something. First it had been sleep—now it is the dizzying haze of her want of this Alpha who _ wants her _ but doesn’t _ want to _for whatever insane reason rattling around in his thick skull. 

For a moment they are still, both thinking perhaps that they’ve imagined it—but then the pounding sounds again, louder this time, and Rey leans back shakily to take in the frazzled state of him. His head is turned, his teeth bared in a snarl at whoever would dare interrupt—and she recognizes that he is in no shape for visitors right now. Not that she’s much better off… but at least _ she _can hide it a little. 

“Maybe they’ll go away,” she whispers. 

Ben tightens his grip at her waist, sucking to growl softly against her throat. “Let them.”

The knock sounds again, more insistent now, and Ben makes a frustrated sound as Rey sighs resignedly. “Let me get it.” He tugs her back when she tries to move away, making a sound of protest that she thinks has more to do with his instincts than actual protest. “I’ll be right back,” she promises.

His fingers ghost up the length of her spine finding her nape to pull her in as his lips move over hers. “Hurry.”

She’s grinning when she untangles herself from his hold, feeling hopeful for the first time since she moved in. She straightens her clothes haphazardly as she rushes out of the hall and through the kitchen to the front door. She has no idea who in the hell would be here so early, and she has every intention of quickly diverting them away so she can get back to exploring the new _ possibilities _she left in the hall, opening the door with that in mind as she—

She feels her mouth part in surprise, her brain not quite reconciling what she’s seeing. He looks just as surprised, brow furrowing and hand lingering in the air mid-knock as he stares back at her. 

“Chewie? What are you doing here?”

His mouth opens and closes. “What am I...” He shakes his head as if that will somehow make this make sense. “What are _ you _ doing here?”

She is trying to reconcile his presence here with the early hour, mentally calculating closing time for the bar against the gray of morning that peeks in from the living room windows. It’s then that the full weight of her predicament weighs down on her, remembering all at once that _ Chewie doesn’t know. _ That she’d _ lied _ to him. That she _ lives _ with Ben, and he—

_ Ben, _ she realizes. _ He’s here for Ben. _

It’s the worst time for the Alpha in question to decide to venture out of the hall. The absolute _ worst _ time—so of course that’s when he chooses to appear. His steps echo behind her, and Chewie’s eyes dart over her shoulder, and surely he can see. The state they’re in. Surely one look, one _ scent _would be enough—and Rey feels embarrassment creeping up her neck at the idea of it. 

“The hell is going on here?” Chewie pushes inside the door, casting an accusatory glance at Ben who looks more shocked than anything. “Ben?”

Ben’s eyes are wide as they dart between her and the lumbering Alpha who seems to be growing more agitated by the second. “I—”

“I live here,” Rey blurts out, refusing to force Ben to explain her actions. “I have for a couple of weeks.”

“_Live _ here?” Chewie’s expression darkens. “You _ lied _to me?”

“I did.”

Chewie’s head snaps in Ben’s direction. “And you allowed this?”

“It isn’t his fault,” Rey argues. “He didn’t know—”

“I don’t care what he knew,” Chewie growls. “He knew this was inappropriate.” He casts a disappointed expression at Ben. “After everything? Did you really think this was okay?”

Ben still looks to be in a mild state of shock, but his face falls at Chewie’s beratement. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Rey’s head whips around. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You didn’t—”

“And _you, _little girl,” Chewie goes on, pointing a finger at her. “Ain’t ever done anything but right by you and you _lie _to me? You don’t know anything about Ben. You don’t know _anything. _He has got”—Chewie’s eyes are dark and angry as he flicks then over at Ben—“_no business_ housing an Omega who is too damned young apparently to have any sense.”

Ben is looking at the floor now, and the look on his face… it makes something in her chest hurt. It’s defeated. It’s a little _ broken. _

Rey feels anger bubbling in her chest at her Alpha’s (because her brain shouts in this moment that he is _ hers) _displeasure. “Chewie, you can’t just—”

“I can, and I damned well _ will,” _Chewie yells. “I’ve clothed you, fed you, loved you like my own—and you’re gonna heed what I say, damnit. Do you even know why he’s here? Do you know what he’s dirtied his hands with?”

“Chewie,” Ben chokes out. “I didn’t—”

“I trusted you, Ben,” Chewie admonishes. “Trusted you when you told me you didn’t do the things people accused you of doing. Then you turn around and do _ this?” _ Chewie shakes his head. “I come here to talk to you, to see how you’re doing, and I find _ this?_” Chewie gestures to a Rey with a sweep of his hand. “My girl, smelling just like you, looking like she’s freshly mauled, and you been _ keeping _her here without me knowing? I’m starting to think I never knew you at all, boy.”

Ben’s mouth is a tight line, his hands clenched into fists at his side… but he says nothing. Nothing at all to combat the vitriol Chewie is spewing in his direction.

“Chewie,” Rey tries.

“And _ you.” _ His attention is back on her now. “I’m disappointed, girl. I’m just so damned disappointed.” He shakes his head, closing his eyes even as his body trembles with barely-checked anger. He looks like he could say more, like he _ wants to—_but he just shakes his head again, half-turning as if he just needs to get out of here. 

He stomps away, ignoring Rey’s calls to bring him back—slamming the door behind him as it rattles in the hinges, leaving the apartment feeling empty and dark in his wake. For a moment Rey can only stare at the closed wood, unsure of what to do as she tries to make sense of what just happened. It takes her a few seconds to remember that she is not alone, and she peers over her shoulder to find Ben still staring down at the floor, looking dazed. 

She moves to him in an instant, her palms settle over his jaw as she assesses him. “Ben? It’s okay. He’ll be okay. He’ll calm down, and then he’ll—”

“He’s right,” Ben whispers. 

“What?” Rey scrunches her nose. “No, he isn't, he’s just mad. He didn’t mean—”

“He _ did _ mean it,” Ben laughs derisively, no humor in it. His eyes closed, his mouth pressing together for a moment. “And he was _ right.” _

“Don’t say that, you don’t—” Her chest feels too tight now. “Please, don’t go this way.”

Ben’s hands reach, his fingers closing around her wrists as he gently, delicately, almost as if he doesn’t actually want to touch her—pulls her hands away. His eyes drift open, studying her face almost as if for the last time, his expression haunted and _ broken _ and she just wants to _ take _it from him. Every last bit of whatever it is that plagues him. 

“I’m sorry.”

It’s all he says, but Rey knows what he means. She knows he’s saying sorry for all he’s done, for all he _ can’t do—_sorry for everything he knows they both want but he can’t give her. 

She feels her eyes sting and her lip quiver, holding it all in as she refuses to cry in front of him. He brings her hands to her sides, his fingers lingering in their grip for only a moment before he releases her completely. 

There’s something heartbreaking about it all—having everything you want and not allowing yourself to take it, and Rey can see on his face that he never will. That whatever sins Ben thinks he needs to atone for—he will never reach a place where he thinks he deserves anything she’s offering. 

So she lets him, when he steps around her, when he moves past her with purpose as if he needs the distance. She doesn’t move as his steps sound across the kitchen floor, as they still at the door, as if he’s turning to regard her one more time—not even when it opens and closes to take him away, to leave her alone again. 

Rey has never felt more alone than she does right now. 

She closes her eyes, allowing the tears to gather at her eyelashes—feeling them spill over to run down her cheeks in frustration. Wondering why she can’t seem to be able to simply _ take _what she wants without everything getting in the way. 

She only opens her eyes when she hears the rough clank of machinery across the room, the largest of the air conditioning units heaving its last sigh as it sputters and dies, falling silent. Already she is warmer than she should be, with the one in her room malfunctioning, and she feels sweat creep down her spine as she heaves out a frustrated sigh. 

_ Great_, she thinks. _ What else could possibly go wrong? _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ITS NOTHING BUT _OH NO WE SWEAT THROUGH OUR BLOCKERS_ FROM HERE


	9. Open The Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys do you remember that little cute pink wash rag with daisies I had no reason to mention? This is gonna go exactly as bad as you think it will. Don’t at me. I have no regrets.  
  
AMAZING BOARD IS AMAZING BY [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen)! 😍

She doesn’t go back to sleep. She doesn’t think she could even if she _ wanted _ to, anyways. 

There had been a brief period after Ben left where she imagined he might have come back. She fantasized about him getting to the bottom of the stairs and realizing that he couldn’t leave things like they were. That he’d come to his senses and realize that he_ wants _her—no matter what the complications may be. 

But he didn’t do that, and she’s still alone.

It hadn’t taken her long to realize she couldn’t be here when he got back. That there is no way she can face him again, maybe ever. It feels ridiculous, how much she’s went back and forth on this matter—but she knows a lost cause when she sees one, and that’s all she’d seen in Ben’s eyes. A lost cause.

She’s gotten a lot done, considering, but the creeping heat in the apartment slows her efforts more and more with every passing hour. The window unit remains quiet and useless where it sits—the one in her bedroom actually following suit before lunch and leaving her lethargic and out of breath. Her weather app tells her that the temperature outside is somewhere in the very low hundreds, the heat wave seeming to have entered its peak, and the little fan she’s dragged out and propped up in her bedroom has done very little to combat the way her skin seems to be melting.

Perfect.

She tells herself at least she’s getting out of here. Maybe the memory of this place will fade quickly. Although she doubts it.

By lunch—Rey finds it a little hard to breathe. Most of her clothes sit in boxes Armie had brought the other day, the rest in errant trash bags, but her t-shirt is nearly drenched through even as she lingers in the open fridge door, trying to cool off. 

Her eyes are closed when her phone begins to chirp in the pocket of her denim shorts, and she fishes it out blindly as she brings it to her ear. “What?”

“Woah, that’s no way to greet your best friend.”

She breathes deep through her nostrils at the sound of Armie’s voice. “It’s… already been a long day.”

“Have you been outside? It’s hot enough to melt off ball hair out there.”

“That is a _ horrifying _image.”

“You okay? You sound weird.”

“I’m melting too. Fucking AC went out this morning.”

“_Fuck. _ What are you still doing there? Come over. We have perfectly functioning air conditioning.”

She blows out a breath. “I need to finish packing before Ben gets home so I can send you and Poe after it.”

“Oh, no,” he offers. “I guess it turned sour?”

She huffs in frustration. “Understatement of the century.”

“But you’re coming over later, right?”

“In a couple more hours,” she assures him. “I have most of it packed away enough for you guys to round it up.”

“I’m sensing a lot of trash bags in the future.”

“Pretty much.”

“Hey.” His voice is a little more serious now. “It’s going to be okay.”

She won’t cry. She _ won’t. _“I know.”

“We’re going to eat so much ice cream this week,” he tells her.

She feels herself smile for the first time since that morning, before everything went to shit. “I love you.”

“I know,” he answers. “Hurry up and get out of there.”

“That’s the plan.”

“See you soon?”

“Yeah,” she assures him. “Soon.”

She knows she should be getting back to it when she hangs up with Armie, but her phone in her hand feels heavy, the silence it offers seeming to mean more in light of the events of that morning. She chews her lip for a moment as she wrestles with the decision, having never felt the sort of apprehension she feels in this moment at the idea of calling one of the only people in her life she calls family. 

She dials the number before she can talk herself out of it, heart thumping away in her ears as the dial tone sounds. His gruff voice is in her ear by the third ring, grinding out a low _ hello _ that oddly puts her at ease even with the tension that lingers between them.

She takes a deep breath. “Hey.”

“Hey, kid.”

“I’m surprised you answered.”

She can hear the regret in his tone when he says, “I’m surprised you called.”

“That was… a real mess this morning.”

“Might have gotten out of hand.”

Silence yawns, and Rey shuffles her feet as she pulls open the top freezer door to let the cool air soothe her. 

“I shouldn’t have lied to you,” she offers quietly. 

Chewie clears his throat. “I shouldn’t have acted like an asshole.”

“You had a right to be angry,” she admits.

“But not to talk to you the way I did,” he sighs. “Either of you, probably.”

“Alpha bullshit?”

He blows out a breath. “Something like that.”

There is another long stretch, and the questions that Rey really wants to ask burn inside in a way that has nothing to do with the heat. 

“Chewie, I—” She frowns. “I want to know why you were so angry. I know I lied to you, and I know I went behind your back… but the things you said to Ben…” She feels a sharp pang in her chest as she remembers the look on Ben’s face. “You really hurt him, Chewie.”

“I know,” he answers quietly. “I know.”

“Do you really think he would hurt me?”

There is a moment where she fears his answer, seconds ticking away as he considers, but then he blows out a steady stream of air, and she can almost imagine the way he’s scratching at his beard in thought. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t.”

“But you said—”

“I didn’t react well,” he cuts her off. “When I found out you both had been keeping this from me.”

“It was my fault,” she says honestly. “He expected me to tell you, and I didn’t.”

“Any particular reason you were so hell bent on staying with him?”

She sighs. “At first it was just the independence,” she tells him. “I needed to do something for myself. Without your help. Can you understand that?”

“I reckon I can,” he tells her in a low rumble. “But… you said at first.”

“I guess,” she tries, searching for the right words. “I guess I just—”

“You went all soft on him.”

“...yeah.” She closes her eyes. “Pretty much.”

He heaves a sigh. “What a mess.”

“He’s never done… _ anything _ inappropriate, Chewie,” she urges. “If anything he—” That sting inside is back, deep and raw. “If anything he’s done nothing but push me away. Nothing but keep me at an arm’s length.”

Chewie considers this for a moment, nothing but the sounds of his even breathing on the other line. “I never wanted to believe the things they said about him,” he tells her.

“Then why did you—”

“You don’t have kids, Rey.” He laughs a little. “Hell, neither do I, I suppose, but it _ feels _like you’re mine. Do you understand that?”

“Yeah,” she answers softly. “I do.”

“I was just scared is all,” he explains. “I’ve done my best to care for you like you needed, and for a moment it all came crashing down that maybe I hadn’t done the best I could. You’d been there for _ weeks_, and I wasn’t the wiser. It was a shock. I didn’t… react the way I should have. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too,” she tells him. “I am.”

“He… really hasn’t touched you?”

She doesn’t feel the need to mention the few times they’ve both succumb to this _ thing _ between them—knowing it doesn’t matter in the way Chewie is asking. “No,” she tells him, laughing derisively. “He can hardly stand to be in the same _ room _ as me.”

“Hmm.”

“What is it? What is it that has him punishing himself so hard?”

Chewie takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly. “He worked for the same man since the day he got out of law school, Rey. He… wasn’t a good man. It just took Ben a long time to see that for himself, and a lot of people got hurt along the way.”

“But he didn’t… Ben isn’t _ bad.” _

She refuses to believe it. Maybe it’s foundless, maybe it’s _ unwise— _but there isn’t any part of her that thinks he could ever be this caricature of himself that he’s clinging to. Couldn’t be the monster he so obviously thinks he is.

“I don’t want to think he is either,” Chewie admits. 

“Then don’t,” she urges. “Can you tell me more? About what happened?”

“I don’t know, Rey… I think…” He goes quiet, thinking for a moment. “I think that’s Ben’s story to tell. I’ve done enough to muck things up as it is.”

Rey feels frustration bubbling, huffing. “He refuses to _ talk _ to me.”

“Well,” he says carefully. “Maybe that’s your answer.”

It doesn’t make her feel better, and it certainly doesn’t feel anything close to the answers she actually wants. “Perfect.”

“I wish I had more for you, kid. I’m sorry I don’t.”

“So am I,” she murmurs. She rests her head on the inside of the freezer door and heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry again. I really am.”

“Me too. You need me to come after you?”

“No, no,” she tells him. “I’m going to Armie’s. I’ll be okay.” Chewie makes a disgruntled sound, and she laughs with a little more gusto. “I promise. I am.”

“I guess I’ll see you at work?”

“Yeah,” she assures him. “I’ll see you.”

She tosses her phone on the counter when she hangs up, closing her eyes as the frigid air of the freezer offers relief for her heated skin, thinking about the absolute _ disaster _ that her life has become. How did everything in her life go so _ wrong _ in such a short time?

She’d been happy before, hadn’t she? Blissfully unaware of what she’d been missing out on. Now she is _ painfully _ aware of that fact. 

There will always be a part of her, she thinks, that will wonder why it can’t work between her and Ben. Always some place inside where he lives because even for the short time she’s known him—he’s carved out his own space there. 

_ It’s almost over, _ she tells herself. _ It’s almost done. _

She can’t decide if that thought makes things better or worse.

* * *

By two in the afternoon, Rey feels a little like she might be dying.

Everything attached to her bones is sweating, inducing some sort of feverish exhaustion that makes it hard to move. Her tongue feels thick, her limbs feel heavy, and her head is foggy and dense, making it hard to think. At this point she thinks she will do anything for some relief, so it’s an easy decision, to take a break. 

The shower calls to her, thinking some tepid water on her naked skin will do _ wonders_, and it is only seconds after stepping under the stream that she finds a bit of relief. She lets it cool her skin and her mind, closing her eyes under the spray and lingering far longer than she needs to. 

And not only because she thinks (morosely) that it will be her last time to use it. 

She’s feeling a little better when she steps out, reaching for a towel on the rack and bringing it to her face to wipe the water from her eyes. It’s stifling, stepping out of the cool escape back into the heated apartment, but already her head feels a little clearer for having found the brief moment of respite. 

It’s hard, admittedly—being in this bathroom with the memory of what she saw here only a night prior. Her eyes flick across the space to the little vanity, remembering his towering frame and his breathless cries and his _ cock _ as he stroked himself, punishingly, _ roughly—_all the while thinking about _ her. _

It makes her hot for reasons outside of the weather. 

She wraps the towel around her middle, stepping to the sink to find a hair tie. She leans over the porcelain once her hair is pulled back, splashing some water on her face and lathering up her cleanser to wash anyway any lingering bit of sweat she might have missed. Her hand meets nothing but air when she grabs for her wash rag on the rack after, and she peeks through drenched eyelashes to find it missing. 

Strange, but she thinks maybe she threw it in the wash without realizing. She uses the end of her towel instead, pulling up the hem that brushes along her knees and bringing it to her face to dry it. She takes a step back only to nearly lose her footing on the now-damp floor, catching herself at the edge of the sink but only after colliding with Ben’s hamper to knock it over into the floor. 

She curses under her breath as she crouches to try and pick things up, shoving them back into the hamper haphazardly as she tries to avoid the fading bit of his scent that clings to his clothes. It’s only when something pink catches her eye that she pauses, still on her haunches as something like memory pricks at the back of her mind. She reaches carefully to fish it from beneath a rumpled shirt, pulling it away slowly as the little pattern of daisies come into view. 

The first thing that goes through her head is wondering how it got there. Why it would be amongst his things, hidden so deeply as if on purpose. 

But then the scent of him hits her. 

It’s potent, _ strong—_so much more than anything she’s been assaulted with in the days since meeting him. It steals her breath, wafting up from the scrap of fabric in her hands, and she doesn’t even realize she’s bringing it closer until it’s there, pressed to her nostrils as she inhales greedy lungfuls because _ this. _

It’s Alpha, it’s sex, it’s _ Ben—_it makes her eyes roll and her heart race, and she feels the floating sensation start in her toes and creep through her veins until there’s a fogginess in her head. She’s shivering a little, her teeth chattering with some anxious energy, but her skin _ burns. _ It starts deep inside her belly like a pit of embers, every draw of his scent stoking the flames higher and higher and _ higher _ until everything is heated and it’s hard to _ breathe. _

She shakes as she tries to effectively _ breathe it in entirely—_her body needing to effectively inhale in this cloth that is saturated with him—and she knows somewhere deep down why it is so permeated with his scent. Why even now she’s losing her senses. 

It’s what drives her hindbrain, what urges it for _ more more more—_the thought of this little cloth wrapped around his cock as he shudders, as he empties every drop of his cum into it with her name on his tongue. She can taste it—that bit of him that he’d never meant for her to find, and she’s lowering it without a thought about what it means or what it will do. She traces it across her mouth, falling to her knees even as a steady trickle of slick seeps down her thighs, her tongue heavy and too-thick as she lets it flick out to press to the cloth. 

_ Alpha. _

She’s curling in over herself, her eyes shut tight as stars flash behind them—effectively sucking on this dirtied thing that is nothing more than heat and sex and _ Ben_. 

Every part of her is hot, every inch of her is coated in sweat, and something aches in her cunt that begs to be taken care of. Begs to be filled in a way no one ever has before. Begs for a _ knot. _ She sucks at the tainted terry cloth so hard she hears it rip, her vision blurring with frustrated tears as her body _ burns _ with a need for _ something. _

Her fingers move between her legs now, trying to press deep to ease the ache, slick trailing over her fingers to drip on the floor—and still she tries to taste more of Ben from this discarded thing not meant for her. She wants it. She wants _ more. _ She wants this taste on her tongue, dripping from his cock while he praises her for taking what he gives, for taking _ everything. _ She wants his tongue and his hands and his cock and his _ knot—yes Alpha will knot her Alpha will take care of her Alpha will— _

She whimpers around the cloth that she’s practically trying to swallow now, fingers dipping as deep as they can go into her drenched cunt that threatens to puddle the floor. Everything burns. Everything _ hurts— _and the bit of him that still clings to the fabric trapped in her mouth is the only thing that tethers her to the Earth. 

And she feels a little like she’s dying, she feels a little like she’s coming _ apart— _ choking out his name around the cloth, _ begging _for him, and she—

A door slams somewhere in the house. 

Is there a door outside this one? 

She’s unsure of anything beyond this room. Unsure of if the floor is beneath her or the ceiling is above. Her shower has become a useless endeavor—hair clinging to her temples and sweat running down her brow in rivulets, trying to draw breath through her nostrils in frantic intakes of air as she hears some commotion in the other room. 

There are footsteps, ones too heavy to be hers (could she be outside as well? Is this all some sort of fever dream?)—and for a moment she curls further inward, some deep instinct to protect herself, knowing she’s vulnerable, knowing she’s _ alone— _

Until she scents him. 

She raises her head with incredible difficulty, blinking heavily at the door even as she continues to suck at the fabric trapped between her lips. She knows this scent. It’s good and warm and _ Alpha oh Alpha is here Alpha will take care of her. _

She crawls to the door, hand pawing uselessly at the wood that remains frustratingly closed. She tries to say his name—she remembers his name, she _ does— _but the words are muffled and useless around the cloth in her mouth. 

“Rey.”

Her entire body comes alive at the sound of his voice, every nerve ending _ singing _ in triumph as it recognizes what she craves, what she _ needs. _ She can only whimper in response, and the doorknob rattles violently as he repeats it—his tone hoarse and strained and _ rough—_like a growl, like a _ warning. _

“Rey,” he grinds out. “I can—_fuck—_I can _ smell you. _ Even out in the _ hall. _”

Her mouth goes slack as her eyes glaze, the terry cloth slipping from her mouth as she makes a desperate sound. “_Hurts, _Alpha.”

“What’s happening? Why are you—” He makes some sound low in his throat that is reminiscent of a choked moan. “_What happened?” _

She’s chewing at the end of the rag again, eyes fluttering as the taste of him offers relief, even if only briefly. “Tastes like you,” she garbles around it. “You touched it. In the bathroom. You _ touched it.” _

“I don’t know what you’re…” He goes quiet on the other side of the door, and she hums contently when she finds a dry corner of the cloth that she has yet to taste. “Rey,” he starts again. “Rey… What do you have?”

“Tastes like you,” she mewls. “Smells so _ good.” _

“Rey you’re—” He releases a shuddering breath, and she hears his voice lower, almost as if he’s down on his knees with his face just on the other side, level with hers. “You’re going into heat. I can _ smell _ it. I can’t—you have to—” He growls in frustration. “You have to spit it out. You have to throw it _ away.” _

“No,” she practically hisses in a voice she barely recognizes. “_Mine_.” She licks up the front of it broadly. “_Tastes like you. _”

“Rey,” he warns. “I’m sorry.”

Distantly she wonders what he could be sorry for, she is happy and content, and even if it burns, he tastes so _ good_, and he is here, Alpha is here, Alpha will—

“_Throw it away right now.” _

The words wrap around her limbs and her bones like iron, causing her spine to stiffen as nausea sets about in her belly with the way she tries to fight his command. It makes her body go taut as if it’s strung too tight—and her hands shake as she tries to cling to the sodden scrap in her hand that feels like her only lifeline.

“_Right now, Omega.” _

She tosses the rag as far as she can as if it burns her, feeling its loss immediately and whimpering when she’s left with nothing to take the ache away, feeling it blazing inside full stop. 

But there’s clarity in its absence, the fever feeling not so bright without the heavy taste of him on her tongue. She blinks her eyes, the lights seeming too bright—but she almost feels like she can breathe again, even if only just.

“Ben,” she rasps, nothing to distract her from the ache. “How are you here?”

“The plant,” he grates. “The heat, they—they shut it down. Hazard.”

“Ben, it _ hurts.” _

“I know,” he soothes, his voice sounding pained. “You need to tell me who I can call. You need to tell me what I can _ do.” _

_ What he can _ do_? _

He’s rejecting her again. Even now, when she thinks maybe she needs him most, he doesn’t _ want _ her. There is a wetness at her eyes, feeling more pitiful in this moment—sitting in a puddle of her own slick and burning from the inside out, and _ Alpha doesn’t want her—_than she has in her entire life. 

She makes a pathetic sound. “You don’t want me. You _ don’t.” _

“It’s not that I—” He sounds _ tortured_, apparent even in her addled state. His voice is taking on a timbre she doesn’t recognize, lowering in pitch with every passing second. “I want you very much, Omega.”

She presses her hands against the door, resting her cheek there and imagining her Alpha just on the other side. “You do?”

“Who wouldn’t want you? Such a good Omega. Such a _ perfect _ little Omega.” His praise licks at her skin, every word like a balm. “So lovely, so _ good— _I want—” He growls low in his throat as he seems to come to his senses. “Rey,” he rasps. “Let me—” He gasps for breath, as if he’s being choked. “Let me just—I can call Chewie, and he’ll—”

She swallows around the lump in her throat, trying and failing to hold onto her senses. “I want you. I want _you, _Ben. _Please.”_

He makes some pained sound, a soft thump against the wood like maybe he’s resting his head there. “I’m not good. Not _ good _for you.”

She trails her lips against the door, breathing against it. “Don’t”—she’s trying to remember how to form words—“say that. You’re”—a sharp cramp tears through her, pulling out a low moan—“good. _ So good. _ I _ need _ you.” She can hear him just on the other side, and she rubs her nose back and forth across the wood. “_Alpha,” _ she breathes. “Alpha, _ please.” _

She’s reaching, pressing up with every bit of strength she still possesses, fingers _ just _brushing the doorknob. They trip over the lock, trying to turn it, and she feels the full weight of Ben’s body press against the other side. 

“_No,” _ he huffs. “Don’t come out here. If you come out here, I’ll— _ fuck.” _ His fingers curl under the door, trying to hold it shut—the thick digits nearly white with the strain of it. “_Don’t.” _

She lets the pads of her fingers brush over his, rubbing into his skin as he makes some garbled sound from the other side, withdrawing his hand as if she’s burned him and then hissing under his breath. “_Rey.” _

“Need you,” she begs. “It burns. It _ burns_.” She rubs her thighs together, the insides so wet that the front of her towel she’s still wrapped in has become sodden with _ her_. It runs down all the way to her knees to drip to the floor, and for a moment she wonders if he can scent it from the other side. She presses her entire body against the door, closing her eyes as one hand dips between her legs, the other curling around the doorknob. “So empty,” she whines. “Don’t you want me, Alpha?” She feels the haze building again, heat clouding her senses and leaving only her need of him. “_Please.” _

“Don’t—_ fuck,” _he snarls. “I can’t—” He releases a sharp huff of air. “Are you wet for me? Are you? Are you slick for me in there?”

“So wet.” She pushes her fingers deeper inside, but it’s _ not enough. _ “So _ empty.” _

He growls low in his chest, and she hears the press of his hands against the door. “You need me to fill you,” he tells her roughly. “You need my _ knot.” _

“_Yes,” _ she breathes, the sound breaking off into a gasp as she rubs her entire palm against the slick crease of her, making a bigger mess. “Need it. I _ need _it.”

“The door,” he growls, rattling the handle. “_ Open the door.” _

Yes. _ Yes. _ This is what her body wants. What she _ needs. _She’s trying to turn the lock, but her fingers are slippery, her hands just as much. She trips over it again and again, whimpering in frustration as pitiful cries fall out of her mouth.

“Can’t. I _ can’t. Help.” _

The handle rattles with more force, and Ben makes sounds from the other side that hardly even seem _ human. _He’s panting, gasping for breath in a way that she can almost _ feel _against her skin, even through the door—and Rey’s eyes clamp shut as she doubles over, curling in on herself as the cramps start in more thoroughly. She moans against the tile, pressing her face there to seek some sort of relief from their partially cooled surface. 

The door to the bathroom shakes on its hinges now, a steady thud sounding against it as her visions blurs and her ears pound with the rushing of her own blood. She begins to tremble violently as slick gushes between her legs, her teeth chattering with the force of the fever that consumes her as she softly begs over and _ over _ for him to help, for _ Alpha _ to help. 

A clank against the tile forces her eyes open, and she can see the brass knob roll across it—broken and useless. The door swings wide then, filled with tall and dark and _ oh that scent yes this is what she needs—_and she reaches blindly for him even before she feels strong arms pulling her from the floor. Lifting her as if she’s nothing. _ Holding _her to his chest as he tugs her hair, baring her neck so that he might slide his own against it, offering his scent to ease the burning. 

She shivers all over as it seeps into her gland to give respite, turning her head to press her lips to the swollen gland beneath his ear, suckling there between kitten licks, sighing contently. 

She cries out when she feels his hand between her legs, one long finger dipping inside as he makes a guttural sound against her skin. “Mine,” he murmurs, and then with more force: “_Mine.” _

“Yours,” she sighs. “_Yours. _ Please, Alpha. _ Please just—” _

She registers being carried, Ben’s steps purposeful, _ heavy _ as he takes her from the bathroom, practically kicking open his bedroom door to bring her inside. Cool air touches her skin, the unit here seeming to still be functioning for the most part—but it’s not enough to take away the burning. _ It’s not enough. _

Ben’s teeth and tongue touch every part of her they can reach, hearing him make sounds she’s never heard another human make—lapping up each one to let them settle deep inside, making her preen with pleasure because Alpha _ wants _ her and she is _ good _ and he will take _ such _good care of her.

There is nothing like doubt in his eyes now—too filled with that same heat she feels deep inside. One that she feels as her own. One that she thinks neither of them stood any chance against. 

And when he lays her over his bed, when he crawls over her to take everything—

Never before has Rey wanted to give so _ much. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They’re gonna talk don’t yell at me. Just knot... right now. 😂


	10. Who Is It For?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY GUYS
> 
> A few things. This is... porn. So much porn. Like such nasty porn. I really went hard.
> 
> BUT ALSO
> 
> Ben reveals all here, and it’s... heavy. Just know he isn’t perfect, he made bad choices, but in the end he made the RIGHT one. There are heavy themes here that deal with a BRIEF mention of human (omega) trafficking. It is VERY brief, but if you would rather skip I suggest you stop reading at:  
_Her heart beats wildly in her chest now._  
And maybe pick back up at:  
_He’s trembling now, and she can feel it._  
❤️  
  
I LOVE THIS BOARD by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

At first there is only sensation.

A swipe of his tongue up her spine, the grip of his fingers at her hips, his body as it covers every part of hers. 

It’s like fragmented pieces she can’t quite fit together, dizzied with heat and knowing that Alpha is the only one that keeps her tethered. The only thing that _ grounds _her. She touches every part of him, every part she can reach—and mostly he seems content to meet every touch with his tongue when he can help it. There are moments when it seems as if he might be content to actually clean her of the sweat that clings to her body, and there are many more moments where she feels content to let him. 

She only finds clarity when she feels the warm press of his cock against her belly, hardly even knowing when he undressed but _ oh it’s so hot so thick yes this please this—_and Rey grips him tight as he rocks against her, her towel discarded and forgotten somewhere on his floor. 

“Is this for me?” He tilts his hips to slide against her, breath heavy as it pants against her neck. “_Ah. _ Wet. _ So wet. _ Such a messy Omega. It’s for me. It’s for _ me. Tell me.” _

Her fingers claw at his shoulders. “Alpha. _ Yes, Alpha. _ Please. _ Please.” _

He isn’t listening to her, trembling a little as he stares down between them where his cock is slotted between the lips of her cunt. He hisses when he lays his hand flat over himself, pressing down until she can feel the makings of his knot bump against her clit as he fucks her this way. His head lolls as he thrusts against her, the head of his cock appearing and disappearing from beneath his flattened palm as he makes guttural sounds in his throat. 

“Gonna knot you,” he mutters, still watching what he’s doing to her. “Wanted to since—_so fucking wet—_since I first saw you.”

Her toes curl at the mention of his knot—her body thrumming with pleasure at the idea of getting what it so desperately craves. She lets her hand glide down her body, fingers brushing the head of his cock from where it slides against her navel. He’s already dripping here, the sticky substance glossing her belly and coating her fingers where she touches him—and she swipes as much of it up as she can before she brings her hand back to her mouth to clean it away.

Ben watches this with wide eyes, pupils swallowing the irises to make them seem black as his nostrils flare and his body stills. He watches the way she sucks him from her fingers, listens to the way she hums with it, feels the way she _ shakes—_his chest beginning to heave with effort as his hands that are slick with sweat and them glide over the inside of her thighs to spread them wider. His cock slips away then, and she whimpers with the loss—but then she feels the prod of his fingers at her entrance, pressing and coaxing her to open for him. 

She grits her teeth even through the haze of her heat as he pushes them inside—the stretch nearly too much even with the way she’s _ drenched. _ She can’t know how many he gives her, but she feels full, _ too full—_and Ben growls in frustration when he can’t seem to work them inside the way he wants.

“Tight,” he grinds out. “_Too tight. _Can’t take my knot like this.”

“I can take it,” she argues breathlessly. “Let me try. I can do it. Please, Alpha. Please, oh please, let me just—”

“_Hush_.” She shivers a little at the command, and his body covers her as his teeth nip at her lower lip. “Hush, Omega.”

She keeps quiet, doing as she’s told even as she trembles with a need for him to give her more, to take _ everything—_but Ben seems to be of singular mind. 

His hands settle at her hips, gripping her there as he flips her suddenly to her stomach. She feels the way his hand touches her spine, urging her body to arch under his touch as he roughly tugs her hips up until she rests on her knees even with her face still pressed against the mattress. 

Her hindbrain screams in frustration, because this isn’t what she wants. Isn’t what she _ needs. _ She wants to touch and taste, she wants to _ feel Alpha _against her—and she can’t do any of those things like this. 

She wriggles her hips impatiently, feeling slick trail down her thighs to pool in the creases of her bent knees. “Alpha. Alpha, _ please.” _

He isn’t listening again, but she can feel his tongue now, dragging up the length of her thigh to collect the steady stream of her slick, turning his head to repeat the same action on the other side. She gasps into the sheets as he mouths at her skin, lapping up every bit of her fluids that escape her aching cunt, a content purring in his chest as large hands hold her still and helpless to the onslaught of his tongue. She cries out when his nose runs up the seam of her, _ feeling _ the way he breathes her in heavily. 

“Need you loose,” he murmurs, giving a broad lick up the entire length of her slit as she shivers. “Need you _ ready_.”

She feels his cheeks against her thighs as he burrows between her legs, tongue pressing to the very crest of her cunt and licking a heavy path all the way up and through her until it she feels it warm and wet against the base of her spine. Something in her brain can’t make sense of this, but then his teeth graze the rounded flesh of her ass, nuzzling back down to nose through her labia—and her unease melts into a pool of contentment as she presses back against his face. 

The rational part of her—however little is left—recognizes that she is absolutely making a mess of him, feeling her slick dripping in an uncontrollable current, but Ben is there for every bit, lapping at her like he’s hungry for it, like he’s _ starved. _

Her back arches when he hooks a finger inside her, stretching her only to press his tongue inside as well. She can feel the heavy slide of his finger—one, or maybe two, she can’t tell—his knuckle catching just at the edge of her entrance with every slow push, every long withdraw. 

She rolls her neck as she attempts not to writhe out of his grasp, one of his wide palms still firm against her hip as he mouths at her cunt as if _ consuming _ her—and for all intents and purposes, he _ is. _ She can’t help the way she whimpers, wanting _ more please Alpha more, _ wanting his knot, _ begging _for it—and there are moments when she can hear herself reduced to nothing more than broken pleas for more.

It’s almost inconsequential, the press of his tongue and the dip of his fingers—so it’s almost a surprise, when she comes around them both. She has to bite the sheets with the way she begins to shake, her thighs nearly collapsing only for Ben to hold her up with both hands—drinking in every gush of slick that pours from her and making sounds that only make her burn brighter, _ hotter. _

There is no relief with it, no ease to the burning, and Rey bites her lip _ hard _ as the cramps continue to tear through her, as her cunt clenches with a want for something to fill it. She feels her Alpha’s mouth sliding across her skin, leaving a wet trail over her ass and across her back and then there is a swipe of his tongue across her nape and a slide of his cock across her thigh and he’s heavy, _ so heavy, _and she’s—

“Who is it for, Omega?” His cock parts her folds, pressing between her thighs to push clear to the other side, but _ still _ he doesn’t take her. “Tell me.” She can feel him rest there, enveloped in her slick and her cunt, but not where she wants him most. Not _ enough. _ He presses his palms to either side of her thighs, pushing them together around him until his cock is practically _ wrapped _ in her, ensuring that she can feel every hard inch of him, every curved ridge of his budding knot nestled in the lips of her cunt. “Who is _ this _for?”

“You, Alpha,” she breathes, closing her eyes as he traps her beneath him. “Just you.”

“Such a good girl,” he rasps into her throat, trapping her thighs between his as he pushes her down, nearly flat. “Perfect Omega. Sweet Omega.” He draws back, and she can feel him there—_heavy oh so good so thick—_and her mouth parts in a silent cry as he eases the tip inside. “_Perfect,” _ he grunts. “Wet. _ So wet. So tight. Mine.” _ His arms cage her in, his body arched so that he can pitch further inside, deep enough to feel the makings of his knot catch at the rim of her. “Open for me,” he sighs, undulating a bit so that the thickened nodule grazes her entrance again and _ again. _ “Let me _ in.” _

She feels herself relax with his urging, fingers loosening their grip at the sheets as he makes some satisfied sound deep in his throat.

“_Alpha.” _

“Good girl. _ Good girl.” _ His breath huffs against her nape as he pushes deep, until she’s full of him, until she takes _ everything. _ “Perfect, lovely Omega. Doesn’t that feel good?” He rocks in and out of her shallowly. “You feel so good. _ So good. _Such a good girl for me.”

“Good,” she echoes breathily, an all-over pleasure coursing through her as her needs are met, as his praise touches something old and deep inside. “Good for you.”

“No one else,” he growls. “This is mine. _ Mine.” _

Her eyes flutter as she arches back into his thrusts that are coming faster now, _ harder. _“Yes. Yours.”

She can feel his hands on her skin, his tongue at her throat, his cock so deep she can hardly differentiate where he ends and she begins—decadent sensations that steal her breath. There is the slow slide of sweat as it drips from her body, making every touch of his skin against hers messy and slick. 

His words are hazy now—broken streams of praise and ownership that lap at her insides—until there is nothing but the way he fills her, the way he _ gives _ for her. His hands roam, one pressing against her belly to make him groan, whispered words of _ do you feel that do you feel me here (_and she does, she feels him so deep that he almost moves _ through _her)—his other hand cupping between her legs to let his fingers slide messily through her folds to smear the torrent of slick that escapes from where they are joined.

There is heat in her belly and her bones and her head, and Rey gives in to the burn of it, allows herself to be lost to the swell of sensation that comes from her Alpha. Trusting him to see her through. 

And even with the way she is lost she feels _ found—_the pieces of her that felt as if it were coming apart suddenly feeling as if they’re coming back together, feeling _ whole. _

He’s holding her together even as he tears her apart. 

She can hear the way his breath grows ragged, the way he’s resorted to burying his face in her throat as he curls over her, stealing lungfuls of her scent as he drives into her. The room fills with her whimpers and his cries and the slap of skin as his thighs meet hers—and she can feel it, the way his knot grows thicker. The way he’s nearly having a hard time pushing into her. 

His mouth is slack against her skin, and his fingers are slippery at her cunt, and she arches her neck to invite his tongue as he tastes her throat with a content purr. 

“My knot,” he mutters unevenly. “Wanna knot you. Is that what you want? Do you want my knot?”

“Yes,” she gasps. “_Yes.” _

He presses his hand harder against her belly until the pressure of it makes his cock bumping at her womb that much more prevalent. That much more _ wonderful. _

A sound tears from him that is wild and rough as he works his way inside to hold, and the moment his warmth floods there, the moment his knot swells to stretch her wholly—Rey finally, _ finally _tumbles over the edge. It’s an all-over sensation, a warmth that starts in her toes and creeps through her veins, and she can’t do much more than lie beneath him, body heavy and heart pounding—letting the way he fills her sate the burning inside. 

Ben is so still above her, body draped over hers in a way that’s nearly smothering—but her heat relishes the closeness, _ welcomes _it. Even after, when he rolls them to their sides, his knot locking them together and his limbs winding around her to make it more so—Rey does nothing but curl her body so that he might cover all of her, every part of her that he can touch from where he lies just behind. 

And when her eyes flutter with fatigue, when his breathing evens to a point that allows her to lull into something more peaceful—something inside begs that he never let go of her. 

* * *

He’s still inside her when she wakes, but barely. She can feel the tip of him resting just beyond her opening, everything between her thighs messy and wet where the rest of him lies. 

She knows he’s calmer now, can feel it in the way his chest rises and falls without urgency, scent it in the thick aroma that clouds around them to blend with her own. His arms around her are tight, his legs tangled with hers much the same, and his hand rests against her belly to press, almost as if he can ensure all of him will stay there if he holds her tight enough. 

For a moment she doesn’t know what to say, still trying to gather her bearings in the wake of everything that’s happened—but she feels it when he senses that she’s awake. His body tenses, his fingers curling anxiously at her skin, and he takes a deep breath that she feels imprinted against her spine.

“Tell me that you’re”—he takes another shuddering breath as if it pains him, his fingers clenching against her belly—“tell me that this won’t—”

Oh. _ Oh. _

“I get the shot,” she tells him quietly, something inside withering with displeasure because _ Alpha doesn’t want to give her this— _but she recognizes, albeit distantly, that these are her hormones speaking. 

She can feel the rush of relieved air against her nape, fluttering her hair. “I’m so sorry, Rey.”

_ Sorry? _

“I can’t…” He shifts so that she’s a fraction closer. “I can’t seem to let go of you. I’m sorry.”

She wonders why he’s sorry. She feels content and warm and _ whole, _and why is he sorry?

_ Alpha didn’t want this. Alpha didn’t want me. _

“You’re sorry.” 

She can’t manage much more than that. 

“This isn’t—” He pulls her a little closer, disputing the way it seems, at least to her, that he doesn’t want to. “This isn’t what I wanted.”

Her chest hurts a little. “You didn’t want me.”

“No. _ No _ .” He growls into her skin, fingers slipping down below her navel to dip between her folds in an almost anxious way, wetting them before he brings them back to press against her belly again. “I won’t pretend that’s true. I _ can’t. _Not anymore.” He nuzzles at her hair to breathe her in. “I just… there’s so much you don’t know.” 

“Then tell me. _ Please. _It won’t change anything.”

His voice is impossibly soft when he answers, “You can’t know that.”

“You can’t either,” she whispers back, wishing she could see him but recognizing that will probably make it less likely for him to talk to her. “Not unless you try.”

“I don’t—” He takes a deep breath. “I don’t know where to start.”

“The beginning,” she urges. “I want to know everything.”

He is quiet for a handful of moments, as if thinking, and Rey is careful not to move, patiently waiting for him to find the words.

“My mother died when I was thirteen,” he starts, surprising her. “She was an Alpha, a tiny thing, like you”—he huffs out a quiet laugh, fingers trailing over her navel—“but tough. _ So tough. _ When she was diagnosed… no one could believe it.”

Everything inside urges her to soothe him, to take his pain, but she wills herself to be still, to let him get through this. 

“My father he…” He goes quiet for a moment, considering. “It was almost like we just never understood each other. I presented that same year, and he just… never knew what to do with me. I don’t know now if that’s really his fault, I can’t even say he didn’t _ try, _it just… happened that way.”

She lets her hand drift down the front of her, fingers settling over his lightly in what she hopes is comfort. Her hair ruffles with his breath that sounds rough in the wake of her touch. She feels his hips thrust a little, pushing him an inch deeper inside even with the way he’s softer now, and she thinks he can’t really help it. 

She listens as he collects himself, swallowing thickly. “I left the minute I graduated,” he tells her tightly. “I just needed to get away. Home was nothing but misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and I felt so out of _ control _sometimes. I thought the distance would help.”

“Did it?”

“Maybe? For a while. I was happy to be on my own, and my father was happy to let me be. I didn’t come home from college once. Not once in four years. Not until I came back to the city for grad school.” He inhales deeply only to release it slowly. “I regret that now. I realize now how alone I left him.”

“But you did come home, eventually.”

“Yes… That’s when I met Snoke.”

_ He used to be a lawyer. Hired on by some sleazeball to handle his personal affairs. _

“Snoke?”

She can feel the way he nods against her hair. “He owned half of the town then. I suppose in a way… he still does. Even if it’s out of his reach.” Ben shakes his head. “He… understood me. I thought. Or at least, It felt that way. He invited me on as an intern at his firm in my _ first year. _It was unheard of. I was over the moon about it, of course, but my father…”

“Wasn’t.”

“To say the least.” Ben sighs. “Snoke didn’t have the best reputation, but I convinced myself to believe him, when he would convince me that it was nothing more than the jealousy of his competitors that sparked the rumors about him. He’d been in the papers a good number of times, always on trial for something slimy… but never convicted. I let myself believe that meant something.” He laughs derisively. “Maybe I just didn’t _ want _ to see.”

She keeps still now, her stomach churning a little from either nerves or his closeness, afraid now of what moving will incite. She wants to know everything. She doesn’t want any reason for him to retreat back into himself. 

“My father tried to talk some sense into me. He did. Constantly throwing Snoke’s trial coverage in my face, trying to make me see reason, but I wouldn’t listen. The things I said to him, the things I _ did— _” Ben blows out a breath. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to face him again. Not really.”

“He loves you.”

“You met him once.”

“I can tell.”

Ben is quiet for a good number of seconds. “I don’t know if I deserve it.”

She feels her heart breaking at the utter defeat in his tone, knowing he believes it. Knowing that when this is over, when she knows everything—this will be her greatest obstacle. Proving to him that he’s wrong. 

“Why did you stop speaking?”

“It was my third year of law school,” he admits. “Snoke had offered to let me sit in on a case he was involved in. Something that felt like a _ dream _at the time—assisting on a high-profile case as an intern. There was extensive coverage—the news, the papers, just about any media outlet you could find.”

“What was he accused of?”

Ben falls silent, and she can feel his shame like a tangible weight. “Something that should have opened my eyes from the beginning, if I hadn’t allowed myself to be so enamored with him. There wasn’t enough evidence, and Snoke knew just what to say, and the way he worked a _ room— _” Ben makes a frustrated sound. “He was always so good at making people see what he wanted them to. I guess I was no exception.”

She can sense his hesitation, and so she skirts around it to keep him talking. “What happened?”

“He got off,” Ben tells her, “and he offered me a job. He talked about my potential, about what I could _ be. _ I was so ecstatic at the thought of the power this would bring me, the _ position— _ that I was blind to the fact that he was just grooming me into what he _ wanted _me to be. Someone to follow him blindly, to ensure he would never pay for the crimes he was actually committing.”

“If you were manipulated—”

“Can I say that? Surely there was some part of me that knew, Rey. There _ had _ to be. Who could believe that someone who had been accused _ so many _ times, was actually free of blame? No.” He huffs out a breath. “I wasn’t just blind; I was _ complicit.” _

She keeps her mouth pressed tight, refusing to comment. Not that it matters. He’s on a roll now.

“My father tried to make me see reason. He _ tried. _ I refused to _ listen. _ The last time we spoke he—” Ben makes a choked sound. “He told me… that my mother would be ashamed of me, of what I’d become, and I… I told him I wish it had been _ him _that died.”

Something in her chest goes tight, her eyes stinging with the weight of his pain. “Ben…”

“He was right,” he tells her bitterly, burrowing his face in her hair as his voice lowers to an impossible softness. “He was _ right. _ She _ would _ be ashamed. I know that now.”

Her fingers curl tighter around his hand, and his muscles tense against her skin. 

“Three years, Rey. I worked for him for _ three years. _Getting him out of a dozen different scenarios that he should have rot in prison for. Telling myself no one was getting hurt. Not really. Each time falling deeper and deeper into this pit I couldn’t climb out of. Blind to the way I was becoming no better than he was. Doing things I’ll never be able to atone for.”

_ Don’t say that, _ something inside her shouts. _ Look at you. Look at how you care for me. Alpha is good. _

“But you left,” she points out quietly.

“Too late,” he mourns. “_Far _too late.”

She knows this is the moment that he’s most terrified of. Can sense it in the way he’s half-trembling against her, this big Alpha, this picture of strength—reduced to a shaking mess at the thought of laying all his sins bare for her. 

“Ben,” she almost whispers. “You can tell me. It won’t change anything. It’s not who you are. It’s _ not.” _

She feels his lips brush against her nape, feels his nose trailing there after as if he’s memorizing the feel of her, the taste. 

Almost as if he’s afraid he won’t ever get to again. 

“I began to notice things,” he tells her flatly. “Things in his records that didn’t make sense. Property deeds coming across my desk that were seemingly useless purchases, shipping manifestos with strange cargo lists... there were items I was seeing for the first time that he’d outright denied having any knowledge of in court. I can’t tell you what it is that made me so uneasy, maybe it was just the weight of years living in the dark and suddenly being offered some shred of clarity, but I…” He takes a deep breath. “I started digging.”

She doesn’t say anything, she _ can’t—_holding her breath in anticipation. 

“It wasn’t easy,” he tells her. “Looking into things without his knowledge. He had eyes _ everywhere— _but I had become a little obsessed at that point. It was… an instinct, a feeling. One that consumed me and left me more aware than I had been in years.” He goes still for a moment, and she feels the weight of his forehead against her nape, the warmth of his breath washing there. “Eventually… I found exactly what I was looking for.”

Her heart beats wildly in her chest now.

“There were girls, Rey,” he tells her pointedly, desolately. “Omegas. Just like”—he draws in a ragged breath—“you. I don’t know how long he kept them, how long he _ moved _them. Maybe from the beginning. It keeps me up at night, wondering how long.”

This news hits her like ice in her veins, but the tone of Ben’s voice makes the shock if it that much harder, the utter _ pain _ of it. 

“I found where he kept them. They were”—his grip is so tight it’s nearly painful, but she keeps herself still, _ quiet— _ “young, and _ scared. _ He drugged them, he—” She can feel his chest wrack with a choked sob, and something inside her breaks for him. “It wasn’t easy,” he whispers. “Convincing the men he put there that he’d sent me. There was an altercation. They were going to call him, they were going to _ keep _ me there—He had a gun, and he was going to use it, and we fought—there was a shot, and he was so still, and I—” He shudders all over. “They were so frightened of me, _ terrified— _there was blood on me, and I didn’t know what to do, but I called the police, and I waited with them, promising it would be okay. Not knowing if I was lying or telling the truth.”

“You stopped him.”

Ben huffs out a humorless laugh. “After so long. _ Too _long.”

“And you lost everything.”

“I deserved it. I was _ glad _ to. Once I knew him, _ really knew _ the man I’d unwittingly sold my soul to… I wanted nothing to do with anything I gained from him. _ Nothing_. I lost my connections, my job, I was blacklisted from ever practicing again—and it was _ worth _ it.” He takes a steady breath, steeling himself. “Because he got what he deserved. He’ll rot for the rest of his life. They gave me immunity for my testimony, but I still don’t think I deserve it. I should be in there, Rey. I should be right there with him. I let it go on for so long. So much time that he could have been off the streets. If I’d realized earlier… it’s time they could have been _ safe. Three years, _Rey.”

He’s trembling now, and she can feel it. His fear. His guilt. His _ defeat. _She can feel every bit of it. She understands what he is telling her; even in the sluggish way her body feels she can fully understand the gravity of it. 

She is quiet, contemplative, mulling over his words as she tries to decide how to respond. It’s hard to put her feelings into words, and she can scent his anxiety as she takes the time to try. 

“If you want to leave, I’ll let you,” he assures her. “I’ll find a way to let you go, I _ will. _ You can lock me in here. You can call someone. I’ll do it. I _ will. _I’ll… I’ll let you go.”

Even as he says it, he holds her just as tightly, just as _ fiercely— _ and she wonders if that’s true. If he will really let her walk away if she asks. She can feel the way that other side of him, the one that knotted her and told her she was good and lovely and made her _ beg, _ is just beneath the surface, that it is only a matter of time before he devolves back into that state, before she devolves back into one that begs for it. 

“I’m going to move now,” she tells him evenly, hearing the sharp intake of his breath. 

His hands shake a little as he pries them away, like it’s difficult, and she knows that it is. She knows because it’s difficult to _ let _him. She feels his warmth leave her in stages—a slow retreat of his arms, an uncurling of his leg from over hers, a withdraw of his hips that takes the warmth of his cock that admittedly she already misses. His mouth is the last to go, lips lingering at her skin and face buried in her hair with one last inhale—and then he’s gone, leaving her bereft of his body. 

She pushes up on her hands to turn, finding him tense and still on his back, staring up at the ceiling as if this will somehow make it easier. As if he can hold himself together if he just doesn’t _ look _at her. For a moment she allows herself to drink him in with eyes briefly unclouded by raging heat—studying his long legs and his wide chest and his even briefly eyeing the weight of his cock that lies heavy and momentarily spent against his thigh. Unable to miss the way he’s still so wet with the both of them. 

He closes his eyes, swallowing roughly as he clenches his fists, so she thinks it probably takes him by surprise—when she crawls up and over him to straddle his waist. His eyes fly open to stare up at her in shock, mouth parting slightly as she settles back to look at him, fingers trailing up his abdomen to tickle across his chest as he shudders with it. 

He doesn’t say anything, and she thinks perhaps he’s afraid to, and it makes her feel _ powerful—_being able to reduce someone as impressive as him to terrified silence, to have such a hold on him. She brushes the pads of her fingers against the dark red stain at his chest that she’s wondered about since first teased with it—tracing her fingers over the lines of the petals that bleed out into jutting leaves. 

“What is it for?”

If her line of questioning takes him by surprise, he doesn’t show it. He just stares up at her in that same way, as if he’s not quite sure this is actually happening. “My mother,” he tells her breathlessly as she continues to trail her fingers over the lines of the rose. “They were her favorite. I got it when I was sixteen.”

“Sixteen?”

He nods. “Chewie knew a guy.”

Later she will recall how happy this little tidbit makes her. 

Her hand settles over his heart, covering the ink there. “You didn’t know. Not really.”

He stares up at her with a wounded expression, voice hollow and empty. “I should have. I knew enough.”

“This person you're punishing, the one who made those mistakes…” She lets her thumb stroke back and forth across his skin. “That’s _ not _ who you are. Maybe you were once, maybe you did things that deserved all the things you think that you do, but that isn’t _ you. _ It isn’t the Ben I know. The Ben I know, the one I… care about, is the man who let me stay even when he knew it would drive him crazy. The one who kept himself from me because he thought he was _ protecting _ me.” She gives him a pointed look. “The Ben I know opened his eyes to something terrible and _ did _ something about it. Who gave up everything he’d come to know to do what was _ right._”

His jaw is tense, his brow furrowed with worry, with doubt. “Rey, you don’t—”

“And I _ do,_” she urges. Leaning to rest her cheek against the rose at his chest. “I care about you. That hasn’t changed. The only difference is that now, now that I know everything, now that you can see that I’m _ here, _that I’m not going anywhere... “ She turns her face to press her lips to his skin. “Maybe now you’ll actually let me.”

She slides higher, hearing his breath catch, turning her face so that she can scent him against his throat to feel him shiver. “_Rey.” _

“Will you let me?” Her gland prickles as she lets it rub against his. “Please, Alpha?”

His scent blending with hers heats her skin, and she trails her fingertips down his body as she tilts her face down to lick lightly against the largest of his glands at the base of his throat. Ben makes a guttural sound as her tongue flicks there, his hands coming to her hips to slide her against his cock that is stiffening beneath her. 

The heat inside her is building again, worsened by his scent and his taste and his hands that touch her freely now, without hesitation—and she isn’t afraid of it, _ welcomes _ it even, scenting the way Ben’s anxiety ebbs away, the way he gives in to this, to _ her. _

His voice is low, his breath ragged, and he’s lifting her now, fingers tight against her skin as he begins to lose himself to the burning need to be inside her again. Rey finds she doesn’t mind, tumbling back down into a hazy world where nothing exists but his touch and his sounds and _ him—_sensing the way things are shifting, _ changing_. 

“If you stay, I—” His breath washes over her skin in a rush. “Never going to let you go, Omega,” he rasps, tongue at her gland and cock pushing inside. “_Never.” _

As she loses herself to the burn, to the sensations, _ to him— _

Rey finds herself hoping that he never does. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I stressed over this so much thinking you’ll hate Ben I’m sorry if you do 😭 I wanted something like a modernized version of canon where Snoke groomed Ben and manipulated him but in the end he made the right choice. I hope this didn’t ruin which is the first part of probably the grossest porn I’ve ever written (which will only get worse(?) next chapter) 😬


	11. Open Your Mouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, I didn't intend to up the chapter count, but what should have been half the chapter ended up being it's own whole-ass chapter. Plus, I have been teetering towards a Ben POV for the entire damned story and this porny ass thing in my head would be much nicer in his POV, I think. So, look for that next chapter, I guess. 😇  
  
This amazing gif board was gifted to me by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

Rey isn’t sure what time it is when she wakes up.

Her limbs are lax, her muscles sore—and beneath her lies a strong, warm body that sleeps peacefully. His chest rises and falls slowly against where she is draped over him, and she tilts up her chin slowly so that she might look at him.

She can’t put her finger on it, and a part of her wonders if it is only her seeing what she _ wants _ to see—but he looks… softer now. She can’t place the worry lines at his brow that he’s carried since they met, can’t find the hardness of his jaw as his lips move minutely with every sigh of sleep. She lets her chin rest against his chest as she smiles softly, images of the hours prior flitting through her memory to make her shiver. 

When she closes her eyes, she can still feel him, moving against her and inside her to leave an impression. Her fingers slide feather-light across his chest, turning down her face so that she can press her lips softly to his skin as he only stirs a little. She takes advantage of the brief reprieve from their hormones to peel herself away, careful not to wake him as she removes herself from the bed to creep from the room. 

The damage assessment at the mirror over his dresser is grimace-inducing—her body covered in red patches from his tongue and teeth and stubble—her hair a wild mess and her lips too red, too swollen. But her eyes are bright and _ alive, _and her glands are shiny and pink with the promise of more to come. 

She knows there are several more days of this ahead. 

She doesn’t find she minds.

She takes a brief moment to sneak down the hall after her phone, navigating through a handful of texts from Armie wondering how much longer she will be, morphing into warnings of coming after her (a small part of her wants to test this, she wholly believes he will never step foot in this apartment again without Poe after the last time)—but she fires off a text explaining her situation and promising him two things: that she’s absolutely alright, and that they will talk about it when she’s able to.

Chewie is a little harder, and her cheeks flame as she texts that she will need the next few days off—making up a story about something moving related and feeling guilty all over again for lying. (This time, she thinks maybe he will appreciate not to know what she’s currently doing, however.) She will wait until she can sit him down and talk to him about this face to face. Preferably with Ben sitting beside her. 

Even the soft cotton of Ben’s t-shirt she’s swiped to cover herself feels itchy and too tight—her skin still sensitive even in this brief moment of respite. She pads through the kitchen quickly as she fills a glass from the sink, her body still too charged with adrenaline for food but welcoming the relief that comes with the cool water.

There is a brief moment of unease that runs through her as she looks around the empty kitchen that bleeds out into the living room, remembering that’s happened here. Her vision flashes with all the things he’d said to push her away, all the ways he’d tried to hold himself back—and it makes something inside curl into itself, worry clinging to her skin much like the sheen of sweat that she tries not to think about too much. Suddenly it feels uncomfortable to be so far away from Ben, even knowing that he’s only just down the hall. It is still hot, _ so hot _ outside of Ben’s room, and Rey returns quickly, his tiny window unit offering relief, even if only just.

She thinks that maybe she should feel more embarrassed, stripping out of his t-shirt and throwing it to the floor to climb back over his bed—but something inside purrs at the nearness without any restrictions, the rational part of her mind that is left knowing he’s seen everything at this point anyway. 

He’s still sleeping soundly on his back—the sheets tangled around his ankles and leaving nothing to the imagination as she greedily drinks in the sight of him. There’s something primal about it, something inside that sings because _ Alpha is big and strong and hers— _and she indulges in the urge to brush her fingers over his chest—tracing the lines of the rose at his heart with a soft smile before she lets them trail lower to tease over his abdomen. 

Her heart rate quickens when she notices his cock, _ so thick _even like this—making her fingers itch and her tongue heavy in her mouth. She reaches out curiously to trace the softened edge of his knot further down, noting the thicker skin, the darker color. She shivers as she remembers what it feels like inside her, and her pulse quickens as she notes the way he’s still shiny and wet here. The way her fluids and his still coat his cock and even the insides of his thighs. 

It makes her wet all over again. Makes her _ hungry. _

Her tongue pokes out to trace her lower lip, and urges build inside that she’s never felt before. There’s a longing to feel him in her mouth, to taste him, taste _ them—_and Rey only gives it a brief thought before she slowly, carefully crawls over his thighs to settle between them.

She lets her nose brush against the inside, closing her eyes to enjoy the blended scent of them, letting it stoke something inside that starts as an ember—but Rey knows soon it will be a blaze that consumes them both. He stirs when she leaves a soft kiss at the junction of his thigh, flicking out her tongue to taste a drying bit of wetness there and humming softly with its flavor. Her lips trail over his skin to find the base of his cock, pressing there lightly to graze down his length as she carefully licks away the taste of them that coats him here. 

Her teeth graze against the thicker skin of his knot, pressing down with a barely-there pressure to test the pliancy of it—and Ben inhales deeply above her, forcing her to still as she looks up at him curiously. She isn’t sure if she’s relieved or disappointed when he doesn’t wake, some strange thrill at being caught warring with the building urgency inside that whispers with a need to be filled, to be _ used _. 

She cradles the warm weight of him in her hand, closing her fingers lightly if only to feel him—opening them back up to lean in and lick at the still-wet head. There is more of _his _taste here—heady and thick and _good, so good—_and she closes her eyes as she wraps her lips around the head to let him simply rest against her tongue. Even soft he is _so thick—_and she holds him just inside her mouth to let her tongue trace lazily around the shape of him, licking away every trace of their fluids that cling to him. 

She doesn’t notice the way her head goes foggy until she tries to take in more of him—feeling the way he twitches on her tongue, the way even in sleep he begins to swell ever so slightly, and she waits until his body stirs to close her lips around him as best she can, lingering near his knot to suck softly there. 

She watches him come to in stages—his fingers clenching, his hips tilting, his lashes fluttering—and his mouth parts minutely as his hooded gaze finds her below, turning dark when he connects the sensations he’s awoken to with the visual of her holding him in her mouth. 

She feels him harden against her tongue with every passing second.

“_Rey,” _he rasps, abdomen clenching as he shifts to push himself to a sitting position, inadvertently pulling himself from her mouth.

She chases after him, flattening her tongue from the top of his cockhead to all the way down to the base, closing her eyes as she lets his flavor stir up her senses and rob her of her rational thought. When his cock juts up straight—she again finds the thicker skin of his knot, licking there from one side to the other as he hisses through his teeth. She can scent the way he’s already slipping back into the throes of his rut—and her hindbrain is practically purring with pleasure at the revelation. 

“Rey, you should—” His lips roll together briefly as she devotes all her attention to his already-thickening knot. “Food. You need food. I need to—_fuck, yes, Omega just like that—_I have to—” He draws in a ragged breath only to expel it slowly, and his voice is deeper now, more purposeful. “Open your mouth,” he urges through gritted teeth, breathing heavily through his nostrils, and a little more roughly when she doesn’t comply fully to his liking: “_Wider, Omega_. Give me your tongue.”

She opens up as far as she able, letting her tongue unsheathe fully to lay flat as he wraps his hand around his cock. He gives himself a slow stroke—forcing a heavy bead of precum to dew at the slitted head, watching fixedly as he rubs it against the wet of her tongue—smearing his taste there and making some guttural sound when he pushes up higher to slide deeper inside. 

There is a part of her that recognizes what it means, giving herself to him so freely—but there is a much _ larger _ part that revels in it, that knows this is what was meant to happen, that it’s _ right. _ She knows she would give him whatever he asked, _ anything _ at all, because she’s _ meant _ to, she thinks. This is what she was built for. This is all she could ever _ want. _

So she lets him sink deep into her mouth, unable to focus on anything except the way he fills her so deep that he presses into her _ throat. _ The slickness that seeps from the head of him coats her tongue and her mouth and _ deeper— _making the slide easy, making the stretch more bearable. 

“Do you taste yourself?” He makes a deliberate stroke against her tongue as his finger combs through her hair to settle at the crown of her head. “Taste the way you’re all over me?”

She can’t tell him that _ no, no Alpha all she tastes is him—_all she _ wants _is him. Her lashes flutter as she closes her lips around him, suckling at the head to let the fluids that leak from him gloss her tongue. He groans when she takes him deeper, an involuntary jerk of his hips pushing him inside until she can feel the stretch of his knot slip past her lips.

“Could you take me here?” His fingers wind in her hair as his breath shudders out of him. “Pretty mouth… could it take my knot?”

It sounds like a lovely idea, her Omega brain eager to please him and chanting that _ yes, yes, she can, Alpha— _and Rey hums against him in approval as she tries to nod to no avail, mouth too full of him. She feels his other hand cradle her face, his thumb tracing her lower lip that is stretched wide around him, holding him inside as saliva pools at the corners of her mouth. 

“You’re going to take everything,” he tells her roughly. “You’re going to swallow _ every bit. _ Aren’t you. Such a sweet Omega, such a _ perfect Omega—_do you want that? Do you want me to knot you here?”

She tries her best to tell him that _ yes, she wants it, please, Alpha—_but he’s too deep, she’s too _ full. _She braces her hands on his thighs instead, licking at his knot as he gasps above her, as he thrusts against her tongue at a pace that she thinks might gag her any other time than right now. 

But right now she is hungry for everything he can give her. Right now she is high on adrenaline and want and the blind _ need _ to please him—and she lets her jaw go slack and her eyes drift closed. He’s tense beneath her hands, hard against her tongue, and above she hears him murmuring broken things like _ good girl _ and _ just like that _ and _ wider, Omega. _

She does everything he asks, every little thing—and she feels it happen all at once in a warm gush and a sharp twitch as he comes and comes and _ comes _ over her tongue and down in throat until it feels like she might could be _ full _ of just this. She feels the way he swells behind her teeth, stretching her mouth wide as he watches—darkly, heatedly, eyes never leaving her face—and her body shakes a little with the taste of him, her skin warming and her thighs wet because she is slick, _ so slick. _ Everything he gives her only makes her want _ more. _

He sees her moving restlessly against him, watches her squirm helplessly, and he brushes her hair from her face as he coos softly, shifting so that she might lay her head against his thigh as she breathes deep through her nostrils. 

“Such a good girl,” he croons, fingers massaging her jaw. “Such a _ perfect _ girl. Look at you. _ Look at you.” _ He bites at his lower lip as his fingers drift across her cheek to caress the bulge there. “Wish you could see how full of me you are. I want to knot _ every single part of you.” _ He traces her stretched lips with two fingers, his eyes wild with pleasure as he prods at the base of his knot that just protrudes from beyond her teeth. She whimpers when a fresh torrent of his cum bursts from him to rush down her throat, and he makes a soothing sound as he strokes her hair. “You’re beautiful. You’re _ perfect. _ I’m going to take care of you. Such good care of you. You did so good for me, Omega. _ So _good for your Alpha.”

Rey shivers with his praise, comes _ alive _ with the way he says he is _ hers—because he is, he is her Alpha, he _ is—making content sounds around his cock and nuzzling her cheek against his thigh. She can’t say how long she stays like that—how long his murmured words of adoration warm her and drive her that much wilder—but when he softens just enough to ease from her mouth, her jaw is aching and sore but her blood is warm and she is _ so wet _ and she goes willingly, _ freely _when he pulls her up to kiss her. 

He urges her to open with his tongue, licking into her mouth as his thumbs massage her jaw. Distantly, she thinks he must taste himself, how can he not with the taste of him so _ heavy _ on her tongue, but it doesn’t deter him—mouth slanting across hers hungrily as if he might actually _ consume _ her. Oddly it makes her that much hotter, that much _ wetter _to know that he might taste himself in her mouth. She wonders if it makes him burn as much as it does her, knowing where he’s just been. 

And when his cock prods at her eagerly, already so hard, _ so hard for her, always so hard for her—_she takes him inside greedily, hardly even knowing how many times he’s had her now. Only thinking of _ this _ time, of the next, every instance to _ come. _

There are moments where she forgets what it’s like outside of this, outside of this room, outside of _ him _—and even with everything that’s happened there is a small part of her that worries what will happen when it’s over. When they aren’t ruled by hormones and heat and there is nothing left but everything that led them here and everything that’s still to come.

But his words are low and reverent against her skin as he fills her, his grip tight. He murmurs that she is good, that she is perfect, that she is _ his, _ and the most basic part of her _ preens—_desperate to believe it. Refusing to think of it as pretty words offered in the haze of his rut. 

Alpha _ wants _her.

She refuses to believe anything else. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know nothing really happened here except gratuitous porn but listen here I have been edging myself with these two for months and you will sit there and you will take your gratuitous porn before I give these two a fluffy ass ending and you will like it damn it  
(just kidding that's big Dom energy I just gave and I am most certainly a sub I am sorry please bear with the gratuitous porn please and thank)


	12. And You Would Take Care Of Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO! 
> 
> Okay, so, this didn’t go the way I intended initially, and hopefully the sudden introduction of Ben’s POV isn’t too jarring. ❤️ I both wanted this bit of ice play in his POV because I’m a deviant, but also I wanted to be in his head when Rey reassures him. ❤️ I trimmed a few things and reworked a bit for the epilogue (which is done, and fairly long compared to my other epilogues)—hopefully this ending is satisfying. I think I was afraid it was anticlimactic because it’s sort of just... more real. (Or as real as ABO can be, haha.)
> 
> I’m rambling because I’m nervous. Carry on. 😂❤️  
  
Gif board by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

Ben feels his rut wane far too soon.

He is surprised to find himself almost mourning the loss of it—everything seeming so much easier without the burden of rationale to weigh down his conscience. There had been nothing but the way she feels inside, the way she _ begs _for him—something that she still does. For as too-soon as he’s fallen out of his baser state, Rey seems to have only just found her peak. 

She is less than coherent today, reduced to whimpered words and writhing limbs, and Ben… Ben feels like an _ animal _ for the way it makes him want her. She is beautiful, _ so beautiful—_lovely since the first moment he laid eyes on her, and her scent, her _ scent—_it’s in his nostrils and his chest and his head at every hour, every _ waking _ moment—taunting him, holding him prisoner, making him _ hers. _

It was only a matter of time, he thinks. 

She’s reaching for him now, and he’s there, _ always _as near as he can be—and he brushes his lips at her temple to whisper soothing words against her skin.

“Alpha. Alpha, _ please.” _

“Shh.” He pushes back her sweat-damp hair, frowning at her heated skin and reaching for the bowl of ice water he’s brought. “You’re too hot, Omega.” She squirms as he places a hand over her belly to still her. “I need to cool you down.”

“Don’t want it,” she argues petulantly, bucking up against his hand in a way that makes it hard not to give her what she’s asking for. “Want _ you._”

“In a moment,” he promises. “Be good for me. Just for a little bit.”

She pouts pitifully, lower lip protruding out as a soft whimper escapes her, and even now with the edge of his rut fading—there is nothing more that he would like to do than bury himself inside her, feel her knotted above him or beneath him, deeper, always wanting to be _ deeper _ than he already is.

But he wants to, no, _ needs _ to take care of her also. 

He swipes the wet cloth over her forehead, dragging it down the side of her face to trail under her jaw. Her mouth parts as it slides over her throat, lingering at her collarbone as her eyes close before she arches into it.

Her brow furrows as he continues to wipe a lazy path over her skin, her lip trapped between her teeth as she continues to shift minutely, as if she can’t help it. He watches her breath catch when the cloth swipes over her nipple, shivering a bit. 

“Does it feel good, Omega?”

Something darker churns in his belly as he rubs the cloth in a slow circle, watching the way she flushes with it. “Too much, Alpha. Too _ much.” _

He knows that she is sensitive, that her skin can hardly stand the coarse material moving against it most likely—but even in the shadow of his rut, there is something about it that makes him feel _ wilder _ than he actually is. He thinks maybe it is just _ her _that makes him feel this way. 

He pulls the cloth away to watch her eyes flutter open, looking up at him with adoration and trust and _ everything _ he’s ever wanted—making him feel _ powerful. _ He plops the rag back into the bowl, instead plucking a large cube of ice that floats in the water to let it hover over her skin. It drips there to let little rivulets of water run over her breasts and down her sternum, and Ben swallows thickly as he slowly, _ carefully _presses it between her breasts. 

Rey hisses through her teeth, a sound that tapers off into a sharp moan—but she doesn’t protest when he slides the freezing cube from breastbone to belly button. Her eyes are closed again, her neck arched and her mouth open, and the trail of water between her pretty little tits is tantalizing and _ so wet, _and it’s an easy decision to curl over her, to chase after it with his tongue.

Her skin burns with an edge of the chill that lingers from the ice, and Ben licks at the soft swell of her breast as he continues to glide the ice against her skin. He follows every trail with his tongue, defeating the purpose, he thinks—but he doesn’t think Rey minds. It’s just so easy to get _ distracted _ when she’s laid out like this. Like an offering, like a _ gift—_and when his frozen square melts away completely, Ben takes another from the bowl with another purpose in mind. 

He holds the ice just inside his mouth, crawling over her body to leave chilled kisses at her heated skin as she sighs contently beneath him. Her hands wind in his hair as she makes the sweetest of sounds—and Ben finds his boxer-briefs too tight with the way his cock begins to ache with need. 

He lingers at her nipple to suck it into his mouth, enjoying the way she gasps as the ice forces it to harden, coaxes it to swell. When he lets his hand wander between her legs he can feel the way she’s slick—always so _ slick _for him—pressing her thighs together to trap his hand there as she tilts towards it in search of relief.

“Be still,” he tells her around the cube in his mouth. “Be _ still, _Omega.”

She whimpers, trying her best, he thinks, to comply—but still she wriggles beneath him helplessly as if she’s unable to do anything else. He mouths at her skin as he travels lower, grateful to have his wits about him so that he might enjoy her, so that he might discover every part of her there is to know and tuck it away so that he might never forget. He dips his tongue into her navel, letting the melting chill of the ice coat her there as her skin trembles. 

He can smell her now—that thick aroma of her that is heady and intoxicating—begging for his tongue and his hands and his _ knot, _ begging him to fill her up, to give her what she _ needs. _ Ben isn’t sure he can blame this insatiable appetite for her entirely on his rut, because he feels the way it’s left him, and yet scenting her now—that warm slick scent of her, like honey and fresh fruit, and just as fucking _ sweet— _ there is still a desire to own her, to _ claim _her, to take every piece of her there is to take. 

He looks up through hooded eyes as he settles between her legs—nose brushing along the slick curls there to breathe her in. She smells like sweetness and _ sex _ and Ben wants to drown in it, in _ her _. He can feel the ice on his tongue beginning to wither away on the heat of his tongue, and he pushes it out past his lips to run it through her folds as she makes some desperate sound deep in her throat, her fingers curling in his hair. 

“_Alpha_.” She tugs at his hair roughly, trying to pull him closer. “Feels good. _ Please.” _

Ben closes his eyes, lowering his head so that he can mouth at her slick folds as the cool liquid pools over his tongue to dribble down her slit. She tenses with the icy assault, but Ben is fixed now on tasting her, licking at her as best as he can without losing the ice as he goes lower and lower until the tip of his tongue flicks at her entrance that tightens around it. He knows how good she feels here, how she grips him wetly when he pushes inside her—and this is no different. 

He makes a hungry sound as he steadies her with his hands, gripping her thighs to hoist her higher—and then he’s pushing, _ pushing _ the remnants of the ice inside her as deep as it will go, knowing the heat of her will devour it whole until there is nothing left. He pulls back to watch fluids trickle out of her—from the ice or just _ her _ he can’t be sure—but he finds he doesn’t care which as he leans in to lap up the thin stream with his tongue as a thicker burst of her coats his tongue, the chill of it hedonistic and _ so hot _even in its coolness. 

He thinks he could lay here between her legs for hours, _ days—_could spend an eternity tasting and teasing her until she’s begging, until she’s _ pleading—_but he knows she needs more than this. He knows her wants and her need more than his own, anticipates it like it’s a part of him, like it _ belongs _to him—because it does, he thinks. 

Or at least, he hopes.

Because there is doubt, admittedly, as he crawls back up her body, as he sheds his underwear to let his cock cradle between her legs where they both want it most. With the loss of blind instinct driving him onwards… Ben wonders if her own inevitable clarity will bring about a clarity of a _ different _ kind regarding him. If she will look back on his sins and his past and realize what he’s known since the moment he met her. 

That he doesn’t _ deserve _her.

He thinks he could live with that, maybe, knowing that she would inevitably find happiness, but it would be difficult. It would be like parting with a _ limb— _ now that he’s had her. Now that he knows her warmth and her sounds and everything that is just _ her. _

He licks at her gland to remind himself that she’s here, that in this moment she is _ here— _ imagining in the darkest corners of his mind what it might be like to claim her, to bind her to him so that she would never leave—but he knows he doesn’t want part of her, he wants the _ whole thing. _ He wants to know that even in the days after this one, even _ years _from now, that she won’t regret the way she’s chosen to see past everything he’s been for who he so desperately wants to be. If she still does, after this. Choose him. 

He hopes so. _ God, _how he hopes.

He knows now that even if he hadn’t planned for it, even if he couldn’t have ever _ prepared _ for everything this Omega brings with her—warmth and understanding and something _ more _ that he’s desperate for, that he _ needs. _

He closes his eyes as he suckles the sweetness of her from the swollen flesh that pulses against his tongue, drawing little cries from her with every bit of attention he devotes to her gland. Her nails claw at his shoulders as he whispers that she is good and lovely and _ his, only his— _pressing at her entrance to slide inside slowly, reveling in every inch that she takes. 

Her legs wrap around him, and she’s full, _ so full—_shivering with his praise as he begins to move, as he strokes into her roughly, holding her against him. And when she falls apart beneath him, when his knot swells until there is no room left inside her and she is still and sighing contently to nuzzle into his chest—Ben lets her curl against him, covering every part of her that he’s able as if keeping her close will somehow keep her with him in every moment that follows this one.

He nuzzles her hair, whispering even after sleep has claimed her that she is perfect, that she is _ his— _over and over again as if it will make it more real.

Because there is nothing Ben wants more, he thinks. Nothing he’s _ ever _wanted like he wants to own this tiny Omega that clings to him. 

He just hopes that when this is all over… she still wants him too.

* * *

He can smell it, when her heat leaves her. Can scent the way she slowly slips back into her full self again. Even with the way she sleeps soundly next to him—Ben knows that she will be more herself than she’s been in days when she comes to. He can’t pretend he doesn’t dread it, even if only a little—wondering how she will be, what she will _ say—_letting it consume his every waking moment that he isn’t buried inside her. 

Every time his thoughts wander there he finds himself anxious all over again.

So he is definitely on edge, when she stirs—arms reaching and body curling inwards—lingering at the edge of the bed with his fingers curled into the fabric over his thighs in order to ground himself. She blinks up at him dazedly as if it takes her a few moments to place where she is, and what's happened, her nose wrinkling adorably as she yawns deeply. 

She pushes up on her forearms to glance towards the window, furrowing her brow. “What time is it?” She huffs out a little laugh. “What _ day _is it?”

“Tuesday,” he tells her evenly. “After eight.”

“Oh, wow. Four days.” She pulls up sheets to cover herself a little, but in a way that seems more habit than embarrassment. “How do you feel?”

“Better, mostly.”

“Work?”

“We have heat leave. I called it in whenever I was… a little more coherent.”

“Good. I know it was… sudden.”

Ben grimaces. “Does Chewie—?”

“God, no,” she laughs. “I just told him I needed a few days to move.”

_ Move. _

It brings back the memories of coming home and _ smelling _ her in the damned hall—of finding her things packed away in her room but not being able to _ find _ her. It reminds him of everything that would have happened if this hadn’t—if _ they _hadn’t—

“Good call,” he says quietly, not knowing what else he can say. 

Her smile is soft and easy, her fingers curling over his thigh to worm under his own. “I thought we’d tell him together.”

And just like that he feels the tension and the anxiety he’s been carrying begin to unwind, replaced with some seeping warmth that always seems to come from her. “So you’re… staying?”

“Well, yeah, I mean…” Her expression falters only a little. “Unless you don’t want me to?”

“No, _ no. _I do. I just—I thought you wouldn’t—”

His lips press together, and she frowns. “You thought I didn't mean it. What I said.”

“I…” He hangs his head, having a hard time looking at her. “I didn’t think… didn’t _ know— _” He heaves a sigh. “I don’t think that I’ll ever fully believe that I could ever be that lucky. That I deserve you.”

She’s still for a moment, quiet, and Ben feels that same worry building inside with every second that passes. It takes him by surprise, when she lets the sheets fall away to press closer. When she moves to crawl into his lap, thighs straddling his and hands curling over his shoulders as she turns her head to slide her throat against his, scenting him and making him shiver. 

“I am of perfectly sound mind right now, Ben,” she tells him. “I know exactly what I’m saying, and I’m saying that I _ want _you.”

He feels every word like weight falling from his shoulders, and he allows his hands to creep around her waist, sliding over her skin as he closes his eyes. “You do?”

“I want”—she turns her face to press her mouth to his gland—“every part”—her nose brushes against the sensitive skin—“every little _ piece”— _he gasps when her tongue flicks out there, his grip at her waist tightening. “I want it all.”

“I can’t ever change who I was,” he tells her regretfully. “I can’t change what I’ve done. Are you sure you want to—”

Her hands slide down his body, creeping under his t-shirt to lift it slowly. “Would you ever hurt me, Alpha?”

“No,” he breathes, pulling her closer as she inches his shirt higher, high enough that he can feel her nipples grazing his bare chest. “_Never.” _

She breaks away to pull his shirt over his head, holding his gaze as she tosses it away. “And you would take care of me. Wouldn’t you. You’d make me happy.”

“I—” He would. He _ will. _He’ll do everything humanly possible to make her happy. “Yes.”

Her lips curl as she leans in to brush them over his own, her voice lowering to a whisper. “And what would you do for me?”

His breath catches when her fingers curl under the hem of his sweats, tugging softly. “Anything,” he promises airily. “_Everything.” _

“I believe you,” she tells him, pressing a soft kiss against his mouth. “And I want you. I want all of that. Because _ I _deserve it.” She abandons her task below to cup his jaw. “And you… You deserve everything you’ll allow yourself to have.”

He doesn’t realize he’s nodding until he feels her fingers combing through his hair—mouth parting to let her little tongue sweep through it as he groans deep in his chest. He doesn’t know if that’s true, that he deserves her. Doesn’t know if he will ever allow himself to believe it—but it doesn’t matter, he thinks. Even if he’ll never earn her… he thinks he lied to himself, when he said he could let her go.

He doesn’t think he could let go of this woman for any reason. Ever.

“Tell me you want me,” she urges. “_Tell me_.”

He’s breathing hard through his nostrils, tilting his hips to seek more of her as he feels the way she’s growing wet even through his sweats. “I want you. _ Fuck. _I want you, Rey.”

She’s reaching for his sweats again, and he’s moving to try and aid her with pushing them down his thighs. “And you’re not going”—she groans into his mouth when her fingers wrap around his cock that springs from his pants, and Ben isn’t much better off—“to push me away again.”

“Never. I won’t. I’m _ here._”

It’s different now—both of them having returned to their senses. That frenetic energy that had ruled them is now faded, but still there is a need inside him that has nothing to do with biology and everything to do with _ her_. He wants her because she is soft and perfect and _ everything _he’s ever wanted—and with the way she tugs him closer, the way she curls over him when his back hits the bed—Ben thinks maybe she feels a little of the same. 

It’s easy to flip her when his sweats no longer encumber him, and she goes easily, falling to her back and looping her arms around his neck as his hand slides down her side to grip at her hip. He can’t stop kissing her—licking into her mouth hungrily as he rolls his hips against her to let his cock part her folds. He can feel her slick coating him, feel it wet and warm as it slides against him—and he thinks it could be a problem, the way he wants her. He wants to tie her to his bed. He wants to hold her here, knot her again and again until she can’t move, can’t _ think—_wants to live inside her cunt and survive only on her taste and her sounds, never wanting for anything else.

“You’re mine,” he says roughly, teeth grazing her jaw before he nips just below. “_Mine, _ Omega.”

Her nails bite just above his ass as she pulls him closer, arching her throat to bare more of it to his lips and teeth. “_ Yes. _ Yours.”

“You feel so _ good_.” His head is swimming a little, not with the raging heat of his rut but the hazy euphoria of just _ her. _ “So warm.” He shudders a breath against the largest of her glands, flattening his tongue there as she breathes out a low moan. “So _ wet.” _ His cock nestles against her cunt as he gives a deliberate slide up her slit. “You’re _ perfect, _ Omega.”

“Please,” she whines, tilting her hips. “Please, just—”

His lips close over her mating gland to suck, and he knows that one day he will press his teeth here. That he will mark her for everyone to see. “You want my cock? Want me to knot you?”

“I want it. I want _ you, _ Alpha.”

“Spread your legs,” he huffs against her gland. “Spread them wider for me.”

She does as he asks, so good for him, always so _ good _ for him. His hands cover her thighs to hold her open, dipping his hips to let the head of his cock catch at her entrance, pressing just enough so that there is a slight wet stretch around him. He grits his teeth as he dips in and out of her shallowly, hands gliding up her body to grip at her waist as he leans up to look at her, to watch her face as he slides inside. 

She bites at her lower lip as he fills her, and he can feel every wet inch of her opening up to take him, her slick making things slippery and _ so hot _ as he pushes deeper, and then deeper still. Her mouth parts when his half-swollen knot catches at her tight little hole, and he reaches to press a hand over her abdomen, applying pressure as he pushes through, her body taking it, taking _ him— _and then she’s full of him, every inch of him lodged deep inside her in a way that makes him want to stay there forever. 

He withdraws slowly, eyes shut and mouth open, but then he’s plunging back inside without any pretense—bracing himself by pressing a hand to the mattress somewhere near her head as he lets his other hand slide up her body so that he can thumb at her nipple. She arches into it, her fingers skirting over his chest to claw at his skin. 

“No one else will ever touch you,” he promises. “This cunt”—he thrusts into her with a force that pushes her up the bed, jolting her entire body—”is _ mine.” _ He ducks his head to growl into her skin, lapping her scent that seeps from her gland to let it splash against his tongue. “All of you is. You”—she’s gasping with the way he fucks her now—“are”—he can feel the way her cunt flutters around his knot, and he’s so close, already so _ close—“mine.” _

“Yes. _ Yes, _Alpha.”

“Am I?” He licks at her throat. “Am I your Alpha? Tell me.” His knot is already swelling, nearly fit to bursting and he hasn’t even come. “_Tell me that I am.” _

“_Yes_,” she chokes out. “My Alpha. _ Mine.” _

The admission seeps into his skin and his bloodstream and deeper still, filling him up because _ yes, she is his and he is hers and he will _ never _ let her go—_and he murmurs his praise into her gland, grazing his teeth there until she shivers with it. He can feel the way she’s trembling, the way she’s meeting every thrust, every touch, and she’s close—he can _ feel _it.

“I want you to come,” he says hoarsely. “I want to feel you come on my knot. Can you do that for me?”

Her breath huffs against his cheek “Close. So _ close.” _

“Come for me,” he urges. “Come for your Alpha. Fucking _ come.” _

“I’m—I’m going to—_fuck, Ben just like that—” _

He feels the gush of her slick just as her insides quake around him, feels her shaking beneath his body as she makes whimpered sounds that brush against his ears like music. She’s so beautiful when she falls apart—all flushed skin and hooded eyes and slack mouth and he can feel it building—his own release that starts as a pressure deep down in his belly, blooming out into his cock to make him harder, make his knot swell _ impossibly further _until he can’t move. Until his thrusts are reduced to little more than tugging to bump his knot against her hole that clenches around him, making it impossible to pull out.

And he’s gushing now, he’s _ filling _ her—his cock pulsing in waves as he comes and _ comes— _ barely able to hold himself up as his arms shake with the way they brace him above her. She pulls him down to her so that she can kiss his face, lips moving over his cheeks and his jaw and his mouth fervently, and Ben feels warm and happy and _ whole. _

He holds her after, free of worry for the first time in _ years—_simply allowing himself to be, just _ be _ with her. Her fingers trace his skin, and her lips wander over his chest as she nestles closer, and Ben thinks there couldn’t be a moment more perfect than this, that there couldn’t be an Omega more perfect than this one.

“Stay,” he murmurs into her hair at some point.

“In the apartment? I told you I was.”

“That too, but I meant my room. Stay here.”

Her arms wind around his middle. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got the only working air conditioner.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Right. I’ll call someone tomorrow.”

“Mm.” She rubs her cheek over his heart. “But I think… I should keep my room. At least for a little while.”

His Alpha instincts immediately recoil, arguing that she should be here, _ right _here where he can touch and taste and fuck her whenever he likes—but he stamps it down, knowing he will do anything she wants. Anything at all. “Okay.”

“I can practically hear you chewing the inside of your lip,” she laughs, tilting her head back to look at him. “I just don’t want to add any more pressure. I want to give us time to figure all of this out.”

Ben is mentally mapping scenarios that will lead to her in his bed and calculating if he will even _ fit _in hers—but he nods dutifully, not questioning it. Telling himself that it’s fine.

She places a hand over his heart as she shifts, the action resulting in a tugging of his knot that makes them both shiver—sensing, he thinks, his anxiety and working to quell it. “But I’m not going anywhere,” she promises, looking up at him with a soft smile. “I’m not going _ anywhere, _Ben. I’m here.”

It’s enough. It’s _ more _ than—and he presses his lips to hers to let her know as much. “I have to go back to work tomorrow,” he sighs.

She makes a disgruntled sound. “Boo.” 

“I know.” He smiles because he can, because he _ wants _to—pulling her tighter. “But I was wondering if… if you might want to…”

“What?”

He bites at his lip. “If you wanted to eat breakfast. In the morning. If it’s too early, I get it, I just thought—”

“Ben.” Her fingers come to rest against his mouth, silencing him with a smile. “That sounds great.”

“Great,” he echoes, lips curling against her fingers. 

“Are we having your specialty?” She grins cheekily. “What is it this week—Raisin Bran?”

He narrows his eyes playfully. “There are other kinds too.”

“Mm. I love variety.”

He shakes his head as she tucks hers under his chin, closing his eyes to enjoy the moment. His fingers trace her spine, and his heartbeat thuds evenly against hers—and there is nothing in this span of seconds but the feel of her, nothing but the way she makes _ him _ feel_. _

_ Happy. _

Ben is happy. 

He really _may_ never know if he deserves her, if he deserves _this_—but he thinks he can live with that. He thinks he can learn to just be grateful, to just _be. _

Ben thinks he has all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They say ice is good for heat 🥰
> 
> (Also there will be more resolution in epilogue, which is why it’s a little longer than usual. ❤️)


	13. Ditto

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was sad to say goodbye to these soft babies! They love each other so much. 😭  
  
Gif board gifted to me by [colourisgreen](https://twitter.com/colourisgreen) on Twitter! 😍

“That’s a lot of frills if you ask me.”

Rey doesn’t look back, continuing to tape up the thin paper as she smiles at the wall. “They're streamers.”

“Do they gotta be purple?”

“It was the last ones they had. Stop grumbling. You only turn fifty once.”

She does look over her shoulder then, finding Chewie still nearly eye level even with the way she’s standing on a stool, scratching at his beard with a disgruntled expression.

“Gonna put me in an early grave one of these days,” he grouses.

Rey rolls her eyes, returning to her task. “Well, I’ll hang streamers at that party too.”

“Right,” Chewie huffs. “Who’s all comin’?”

“The usual. Snap and Wedge and Lando”—she ignores the puff of air Chewie lets loose—“Armie and Poe... Klaud, of course...” She is quiet for a few seconds before adding: “I invited Han too.”

She doesn’t look back, but she can imagine the way Chewie is raising his thick brows. “Ben know that?”

“He doesn’t.”

Chewie whistles. “That oughta be interesting.”

“It’s going to be fine,” she answers firmly, if only to assure herself. 

It’s been a month since Rey decided to stay with Ben, since he _ asked _ her to—and it’s been wonderful. It really has. They’ve made peace with Chewie—a tense conversation in which Chewie threw around platitudes like _ if you ever hurt her _ and _ you know I've got my eye on you _ and worse of all: _ make sure to name one of the kids after me. _ Not that Rey had been particularly worried about the giant teddy bear who is the closest thing to a father she’s ever had, but still. She can’t pretend like his easy approval doesn’t help her rest easier at night. More importantly than that, she thinks, they’ve made peace with _ each other— _Rey no longer having to convince Ben every other day that she isn’t going to leave at any given moment. Now the moments where she catches him looking forlorn and worried are few and far between. 

But there is one thing she still hasn’t quite been able to mend.

She is fully aware now that Ben’s aversion to his father is just one of the many ways that her Alpha has taken to punishing himself, and it’s been the hardest one to break through in her determination to prove to him that he doesn’t need to. She thought when Chewie had fully come around to the idea of them after a brief period of wariness it would help—but it seems Ben can’t quite let go of the way he hurt his father. 

It’s a tricky one, this card she’s chosen to play—but it’s the only one she has. Besides, it’s a birthday party for Chewie. Why _ wouldn’t _his best friend show? She thinks if she tells herself this enough it will take the edge off her guilt.

She leans to the right from her stool to tape the end of her streamer to the old molding over the halfway door—nearly losing her balance and tripping a bit as she makes a startled sound. Large hands are there at her waist in an instant, and she smiles sheepishly down at Ben’s worried expression. 

“Be careful.”

“I _ am _being careful,” she insists. “You’re supposed to be setting up the projector.”

“I did. Besides, apparently if I leave you alone for five seconds you’ll fall off of bar stools and break something.”

“I was watching her,” Chewie grumbles from behind. Ben only quirks a brow, and Chewie waves him off. “Can you spot her for a minute?” He casts his gaze over his shoulder as Lando sweeps into the room, his silky cape fluttering behind him. Chewie rolls his eyes. “Gotta greet the local wildlife.”

He leaves them, and Rey finishes her task with Ben’s hands lingering just under the hem of her blouse, not finding it in her to complain about it one bit. He lifts her easily when she’s done to set her on her feet, and she pushes up on her toes to press a kiss to his mouth, smiling softly. 

“My hero.”

She feels his lips curl against hers. “You’ve got this place _ almost _looking like something other than a beer-drenched dungeon. I’m impressed.”

“You should see the cake Maz made. It’s pink. Chewie is going to hate it.”

“Sounds about right,” Ben laughs. “Do you think he’ll—”

“_Haaaan Solo!” _

Rey stiffens as Ben’s head snaps in the direction of Maz’ voice—already laced with pre-party daiquiris and aimed towards the door at the aging man who’s just stepped through. Ben gapes at the sight of his father, looking a little dumbstruck as if the idea of him coming hadn’t occurred to him, and Rey feels a trickle of guilt creep through her, hoping that she’s made the right decision and that this won’t ruin the entire night.

Ben looks down at her with a wary expression, and she bites at her bottom lip guiltily. “It’s Chewie’s birthday, Ben.”

“Maybe I should…” His eyes dart over the the back entrance, and she tugs at his shirt. 

“He asks about you _ all _ the time. Every single time I talk to him.” Ben frowns, looking unconvinced, and she tugs at his shirt a little harder. “He _ loves _you, Ben.” She leans up until her lips brush against his cheek. “And you deserve that.”

She thinks his worry doesn’t matter now, because Han has already spotted them in the corner, pushing past the others quickly as if he’s afraid his son will escape. A fear that isn’t entirely unfounded, Rey thinks. He slows as he approaches, expression guarded and mirroring the one Ben is currently wearing, and Rey tries to untangle herself from her Alpha so that she might give them some privacy, only to be tugged back as Ben’s hand curls around her own.

There are a few heavy seconds where no one says anything, but eventually Han shoves his hands into his coat pocket, clearing his throat. “Hey, son.”

For a moment Rey is afraid Ben won’t answer, his throat bobbing with a heavy swallow as he stares back at his father with wide eyes, but he takes a deep breath to release it slowly, uttering a quiet: “Hey.”

“Been trying to call you,” Han prods quietly.

Ben averts his eyes. “I know. I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy avoiding me.”

Ben’s gaze snaps back up to meet Han’s, wild and open, and his lips press together in a tight line as Rey watches some of his careful walls breaking down. “Can you blame me?”

“No,” Han admits. “No, I can’t.” Ben’s expression dips back into guilt, and Rey is about ready to jump to Ben’s defense—but Han isn’t done. “I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me either, after everything I did to run you off.”

Ben looks stunned by this admission, clearly having not expected it—and Rey holds his hand just a little tighter. “What? You didn’t—”

“Let me get this out,” Han cuts him off, raising a hand. “Before you run out on me again.”

Ben’s mouth closes, nodding dumbly. 

“I wasn’t ever what you needed me to be,” Han tells him. “I missed your mother, and I didn’t know about any of the things you were going through, and I just… wasn’t _ there. _Not like you needed. Not for one day. I know that, Ben.”

Ben looks like he can hardly process this, like he can hardly _ breathe— _but he says nothing, allowing Han to say all the things Rey thinks Ben needs to hear. 

“And because I failed you… You went looking for what you needed in someone else, and you just so happened to find it in an honest-to-god monster.”

Ben hangs his head a fraction, but Han’s hand claps him on the shoulder, jolting him a bit and forcing his eyes up. 

“But you still made the right choice, in the end,” Han says thickly. “Even when no one was there to help, you did the right thing.” Han’s mouth presses together, his eyes shining. “I’m so _ proud _of you, Ben.”

Rey isn’t breathing now either, feeling it catch in her lungs as the moments tick by between them—Ben’s mouth open in surprise as he tries to process what his father is telling him, having clearly not expected any of this when he envisioned finally talking to Han again. Rey has to admit she hadn’t expected this level of admission when she’d pushed the two of them together, but her chest is tight with emotion, because she feels _ every _word that Han is saying. Feels them because they mirror the same ones she’d told Ben herself. 

Ben’s jaw works, his breath just a little ragged now, and his eyes are too bright, wet with something he’ll never allow himself to really show. His throat bobs with a swallow, and he inhales a shaky breath, his voice coming out on an uneven exhale.

“Dad.”

It’s all he says, but Rey hears so much more in it, and judging by Han’s expression—she thinks he does too. He nods heavily, his mouth turning up at the corners in a quiet smile. “I know.”

Ben looks a little lost when Han leans in, when he tentatively wraps his arms around his son—but he doesn’t pull away. Rey thinks he might even lean into it a little, his eyes closing briefly as he lets the last of his burdens fall away. It’s everything Rey wanted for him, everything she thinks he _ needed— _and she can’t describe her happiness in this moment. For as much as she loves him… she thinks their future can only really exist if he learns to love himself.

She thinks maybe he can do that now.

Both men are quiet when they break away, the heaviness descending as Han clears his throat and shoves his hands back in his pockets. “So, uh… Can I buy you a drink?”

“Yeah,” Ben laughs quietly. “Yeah, I’d… like that.” He squeezes Rey’s hand. “Meet you over there?”

Han’s eyes flick to Rey, nodding. “See you.”

Ben is still for a few moments, watching his father shuffle back through the small crowd that grows with every passing minute. It’s only when they’re left alone in their little corner that he turns—wrapping his arms around her to crush her to his chest. His face buries in her hair, his chest rising and falling heavily. He doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have to, she thinks—so she just clutches at his shirt, giving him this moment.

He pulls away slowly, looking down at her with an expression that is warm and bright and _ hers— _always reserved for her, and she smiles up at him with emotion weighing heavy in her chest. 

She reaches to let her thumb trace his jaw. “See? Nothing to be afraid of.”

His mouth quirks. “You think I’m afraid?”

“I think big, scary Alpha isn’t as big and scary as he likes to make people think.”

Ben laughs under his breath, shaking his head as he brings his lips to rest at her temple. “I love you.”

She closes her eyes, smiling softly. “Ditto.”

“You know you’re staying in my room tonight, right?”

“Maybe I should just make a permanent move down the hall.” He pulls away to look at her blankly, and she shrugs. “If you want. It can’t be much different than what we’re already doing.”

He makes a low sound in his chest, curling his hands over her hips to mold her against him. “If you think you need to convince me to keep you in my bed, Omega… you’re sorely mistaken.” He ducks his head to let his lips hover against hers. “Although, it will definitely make it harder to leave every morning when you’re there.”

“Mm. Maybe if you wake me up I can give you a proper send off.”

“How will I ever get anything done when you’re around?”

She smiles against his mouth. “You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah,” he laughs softly, pressing another kiss to her mouth before he lets his forehead rest against hers. “Yeah, I imagine I will.”

He tugs at her hand then, leading her through the crowd to join everyone else, and Rey thinks that’s enough for now, figuring it out. She knows that they will, knows that they can do _ anything— _as long as they have each other. When Ben pulls her into his side, curling his arm around her shoulders and answering a quiet acknowledgment from his father who turns to greet them as they approach—Rey thinks things couldn’t be more perfect than they are right now. 

Because they do, she thinks. Have each other. 

Rey doesn’t think she can ask for anything more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I hope this ending was satisfying! It was the shortest time jump I think I’ve ever done, but it get right for them to me, that they’re just figuring things out together. ❤️
> 
> Thanks to everyone who followed along! 
> 
> You guys are the best. ❤️  
  
This incredibly adorable piece was gifted to me by [abigeyedowl](https://twitter.com/abigeyedowl) on Twitter! 😍

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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